Summer of Enchantment
by Warviben
Summary: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.
1. Chapter 1

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Author's Notes**: This is the first Harry Potter fanfic I ever wrote, though certainly not the first I've posted. I wrote it before I discovered the Wonderful World of Snarry, which opened my eyes to an entirely different dynamic between these two characters. When I started it, I thought it was going to be a Snape-turns-into-Harry's-mentor story, but Snape just couldn't let go of his grudges long enough to see beyond the end of his nose, so this is what resulted. It is not Snarry and will not devolve into Snarry.

Please be aware that there is an OC in this story who features prominently. If you dislike stories with OC's in them, please hit the Back button.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. One of the characters is just under 16 in the beginning. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

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Chapter 1 _Retreat_

"Go ahead, Minerva," Albus Dumbledore indicated with a polite nod of his head in her direction. He sat behind his desk, his eyes on the woman in front of him. "You asked for this meeting."

"I'm worried about Harry, Albus," Professor McGonagall began. She'd been sitting as well, but now she got to her feet, her hands clasped in front of her.

"As are we all," Dumbledore interjected.

"The boy has had tragedy heaped on top of tragedy all his life. He hasn't had time to recover from one before the next is upon him. This last year has been especially difficult, as you know. I don't think he had time to properly grieve over poor Cedric Diggory when he was thrust into a situation where the Ministry of Magic and seemingly the entire world conspired against him to belittle and humiliate him. And then the battle at the Ministry! You were there, Albus. You know what happened. Despite sometimes overwhelming evidence to the contrary, he is still just a boy!" Her eyes were large and beseeching.

"What do you suggest we do, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"I don't know!" she confessed, wringing her hands. "Perhaps if we were to get him away from here, at least for a time . . . give him time to process what has happened to him over the last few months . . . I know that summer break is fast approaching, but Privet Drive is not the place for him, goodness knows. They'll only make matters worse, the worthless Muggles!" She put her hands on his desk and leaned toward him, willing him with her earnestness to understand just how serious this was.

"Again, I ask, what do you suggest?"

"I suggest that we find some place where no one's ever heard of Harry Potter and where You-Know-Who wouldn't think to look for him. Let him recover and get his wits about him before returning to school next term. Let him heal, physically and spiritually. Goodness knows his troubles haven't come to an end – they'll be waiting for him when he returns. But at least he'd be in a better frame of mind to deal with them!" They were talking about the boy's mental health. Surely, he could see what was at stake.

"And did you have such a place in mind?" inquired Dumbledore.

"Well, no," Professor McGonagall was forced to admit. "But if we put our heads together, I'm sure we can come up with something. He can't go alone, obviously. For his own protection, he'd need to be with someone capable of defending him should the need arise."

"And you're sure taking the boy away from what is familiar is the right thing for him now?" Dumbledore asked. Harry's recent outburst in this very office was fresh in his mind. It was obvious Harry needed something – what that something was was difficult to discern.

Professor McGonagall sighed, and her shoulders slumped just a little. "I'm not sure of anything," she said. "Except that he looks as though he's in constant torment. And Mr. Weasley has confided in me that there are nightmares, nearly every night. Being here obviously isn't helping. Perhaps being somewhere else is just what he needs."

Dumbledore sighed, considering what she'd said. He, too, had been worried about Harry's state of mind, despite the boy's protestations that he was fine. He'd come to expect nothing less from Harry. How many times had he given the boy an opportunity to confess what he was feeling and experiencing, only to be assured that everything was "fine"?

"I believe the idea has some merit, Minerva," he admitted. "But the question remains – where is Harry safe? Where can we send him that no one would think to look? Everyone connected with him will remain a target until Voldemort gets his hands on Harry, so sending him to the Burrow, which would be a great comfort to him, is out of the question, as is Grimmauld Place, though I'm sure the memories associated with that house would be counter-productive. He's safe here, at least, but he can't remain here long, not with the term coming to a close." He sighed again. "I'll have to give this some thought."

For the first time, Severus Snape, who had been sitting quietly, listening but seemingly disinterested as always when the topic was Harry Potter, spoke up. "I believe . . . _I_ may have a solution to this particular problem."

She'd forgotten he was even there, and when he spoke, Professor McGonagall jumped just a little. When he didn't continue, she snapped, "Well? Go on, Severus!"

Snape looked at her appraisingly, then turned to Dumbledore. "May we speak privately, Headmaster?"

Surprised, Dumbledore nevertheless turned to Minerva. "Would you excuse us for a moment, please, Minerva?"

Professor McGonagall looked from one to the other in disbelief. Were they really dismissing her from a discussion that _she _had started? It appeared that they were. "Very well," she said stiffly, indignant, and turned to go.

"Thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore said sincerely to her retreating back. "I know you have Harry's best interests at heart."

"Yes, well, someone should," she sniffed as she left the room.

"What is it, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, turning to Snape after the door had closed.

"I have received correspondence from a Muggle attorney overseas. I have some . . . personal business that I need to attend to there. It may take a number of weeks. I was going to wait until the end of term, but I could go now and . . ." Snape appeared to be struggling internally with the offer he was about to make. Finally, he said, "I could take Potter with me. No one would think to look for him there. With me."

"Personal business, Severus?" Dumbledore repeated, his blue eyes piercing into Snape's black orbs.

Snape sighed and looked away. He'd never understand how Dumbledore could still make him feel like a small child caught misbehaving. He had hoped not to have to get into this – it was why he'd put off telling the Headmaster – but he should have known better. "My sister's child."

"I wasn't aware that you had a sister," Dumbledore said with an inquiring lift of an eyebrow.

"I don't. That is to say, I don't any longer. She has been dead for years. The girl . . . my niece . . . has been residing with a paternal grandparent who has recently herself passed away. Apparently, I am the only remaining relative."

"I am sorry, Severus. About your sister, I mean. Why have you never told me?"

Snape paused for a good long time before responding. "I was six years old when Sacilia was born. My father . . . left us shortly after her birth. I helped care for the child as much as I could, while Mother worked, until I went off to school. Eventually, it became apparent that Sacilia was a Squib. Mother was . . . well, Mother was ashamed. She was pureblood herself, and while it apparently was acceptable for her to take up with a Muggle and bear his children, it was not acceptable that one of those children had no magical ability. When it became obvious what she was, Mother thought it best to keep Sacilia . . . hidden."

"What happened to her?" Dumbledore prodded.

"She was ten when our mother died. I was still here at school, as you know. Sacilia went to live with our grandmother, who harbored the same prejudices my mother did, as well as a hatred for my Muggle father who had tainted her pureblood daughter. When Sacilia was sixteen, she ran away with a Muggle boy from the States. I should have taken her in when I left school, but I was . . . my lifestyle was not conducive to raising a teenager. I never heard from her again. Apparently she . . . acquired a drug habit, which claimed her life seven years ago. Somewhere along the way, there was a child."

"And how old is this child?"

"Sixteen," Snape informed him. Everything he knew about the girl he'd been told by the social services people who had contacted him two weeks ago. He'd never spoken to the child himself. He'd been contacted by the same agency seven years ago, shortly after his sister's death, but when he'd learned the paternal grandmother was willing to take the child, he'd been relieved and had hardly thought of her since.

"And what are your plans for this child?" Dumbledore continued his interrogation.

"I have no idea," Snape admitted. "But I feel as though I ought to . . . that I should . . . make sure that she is tended to properly."

"You make it sound as though she were a plant, Severus. But you surprise me, in a pleasant sort of way. Whatever else happens, you certainly should go to her. She needs you. Are you sure you want to bring Harry along? Might make an already difficult situation even more so."

"I don't see how that could be," Snape confessed. He was completely at a loss as to what to do about the teenaged American girl who had suddenly become his problem. No one was going to bail him out this time, apparently. "Do I want to spend weeks confined with . . . that boy? Certainly not. But it seems this may be an appropriate way to fulfill a promise I made to you many years ago. In any event, I can see to it that his school work is brought up to the level where it ought to be. If that is indeed even possible."

"Are you sure about this, Severus?"

Snape was silent for a moment, then nodded.

"And I've just had an inspirational idea!" Dumbledore stated with a broad smile. "I've been meaning to ask you, Professor, to review the potions textbook. It's getting a little outdated." That was an understatement. The current Potions textbook was at least two hundred fifty years old. "You can bring your things along, work at the job while you're away. Might keep you busy and out of trouble. Interested?"

"Yes, sir," Snape said quickly. For the chance to get his name on a newly-published potions textbook? Most certainly.

"I think you're just the man for the job."

"And I'll have a convenient subject for testing purposes," Snape said with a gleam in his eye. He had to stop himself from rubbing his hands together in gleeful anticipation.

Dumbledore eyed him sternly. "Severus, I'd like you to bring him back in one piece, hmm?"

Snape had the grace to look abashed at his eagerness. "Yes, sir. Of course."

"I'll speak with Harry right away. I don't see how we can force him to go, if he's not inclined to do so. But thank you, Severus. This is a most generous offer."

Snape bowed his head in acknowledgment, rather doubting his own sanity for making the offer in the first place, then rose to go.

##########

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Harry asked after he stopped in front of the Headmaster's desk. He'd been summoned here from class, so whatever this was, it must be fairly important.

"Harry! Yes, sit, please."

After Harry had seated himself, Dumbledore asked, "How are you, Harry?"

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm fine, sir."

Exactly what Dumbledore had expected to hear, unfortunately. The dark circles under Harry's eyes told the Headmaster a different story. "Everything going all right, then?" he pressed.

"Yes, sir. Everything's fine."

Dumbledore sighed. He'd been holding out a small hope that Harry might confess that he was having difficulty dealing with everything, in which case they might have been able to provide him with help right here. But if Harry wouldn't admit there was a problem, no amount of forced assistance would do him any good. "School going well?"

"About as well as it usually does." Since it was nearly over, what was with the third degree?

"Been sleeping?"

Harry had been able to meet Dumbledore's penetrating stare up until this point. Now he looked up at the ceiling, then at Fawkes, and then at the floor before letting his eyes settle back on Dumbledore's, bright blue and all-knowing. He'd lie if he wasn't sure that Dumbledore would see right through it. "I've been having some nightmares," he admitted grudgingly.

"Visions?" Dumbledore asked with some concern. "Or simply nightmares?"

"Not visions, no. They're . . . different." No, these were routine, garden-variety nightmares involving dementors, Cedric's death in the graveyard, Voldemort's rebirth, Sirius' death at the hands of the evil Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort's attempted possession of him in the Ministry of Magic, even that toad Umbridge.

"Good. Good. Well, not good that you're having nightmares, Harry," Dumbledore said quickly, correcting the impression that he may have left that having nightmares was an enjoyable experience. "But certainly perfectly understandable after all you've been through, don't you think? Anything you wish to talk about? I'm a good listener," he offered, shining with sincerity.

Harry most certainly did not want to talk about them, not with Dumbledore, not with anyone. "No, sir. I'm fine, really."

Dumbledore sighed once again. He'd hoped Harry wouldn't force him into what he knew would be a difficult conversation. "Harry, some of us are concerned about you," he began.

"Professor, I . . ."

"Now, Harry, hear me out, please." When Harry acceded, somewhat begrudgingly he could tell, to this request, Dumbledore continued. "Some of us are concerned that you've had rather too much piled upon your very young head, and we fear that perhaps you've reached your breaking point."

"But . . ."

Dumbledore raised a hand to stave off Harry's protests. "You've been handling yourself very well, Harry. Much more so than any of us would have a right to expect. But you've had a significant amount of upheaval in your life over the last year, even for you, and some of us are concerned that you are ignoring the lingering effects of that upheaval."

Harry wouldn't be silenced this time. "You keep saying 'some of us', sir. Who, exactly, are 'some of us'?"

"Does that really matter?"

"It does to me," Harry said stubbornly, sitting up straight, his arms crossed in front of his chest, the very picture of defiance.

Dumbledore sighed inwardly this time. This was going just about as well as he'd expected it to. "Professor McGonagall came to me. She's worried about you. And I have to say, based on what I see before me now, that I agree with her. I know you're mature beyond your years, Harry. Your life has left you with little choice. But even an adult would be reeling from the experiences you've survived over the last few months. If you don't let yourself work through the grief and the guilt and the anger you feel, it will eat you alive. And you'll be of no use to anyone."

"So you're worried that I won't be at my best the next time I face Voldemort? Is that what this is about?" Harry asked petulantly. So much for mature.

"No, dear boy, that's not it at all. That was a poor choice of words, and I apologize. Do I worry about Voldemort getting close to you? Oh, yes. Do I worry about Voldemort attempting once again to kill you? Every day. And I do worry that, in the end, Voldemort might prove to be too much for both of us. But that's _not_ what this is about. I care for you, Harry. We all do. I don't want to see you suffer any more than you already have. _That's _what this is about. Difficult times lie ahead, and we all need to be at our best to face them."

Harry sat back, his eyes filling with tears at Dumbledore's kind words of concern. He'd found himself near tears a lot lately. Between the always-lurking tears and the anger still seething just below the surface, there was little room left for any other emotion. His friends had noticed his mood, and they were trying to help, but he found he didn't want to confide in them either. How could they understand what he was feeling? Had any of _them _been responsible for the deaths of anyone, let alone two innocent people whose only crime had been standing between someone and the man who wanted him dead? How could anyone understand the guilt that lived in his gut and ate at his heart? How could they be expected to understand any of this?

Harry closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, trying to will the tears away. "What do you want me to do?" he asked resignedly.

Dumbledore allowed himself a small smile – he was getting through. "We think it would be best if you went away for a while."

Harry's eyes popped open, and he sat forward again. "Away? Where?"

"Where is not really important. We'd like to take you somewhere safe, somewhere no one would think to look for you, somewhere you can find the peace you need to work things out in here," Dumbledore said, touching his own forehead, "and in here." He pressed a palm against his heart.

"You're sending me away," Harry said bitterly, disbelief evident in his voice. This was going to be just like last summer. No news. No word from his friends. Closed off from everything and everyone he cared about.

"I'll not make you do anything you don't want to do. If it is your wish, you can return to Privet Drive at the end of term, and things can continue there as they always have. But I'd like you to at least consider that this may be the best thing for you. Wouldn't it be a wonderful feeling, Harry, just to be a boy? A boy who doesn't have to worry that there's someone who wants to destroy him lurking around every corner?"

Harry felt the tears threatening again, and he couldn't stop one from slipping down his cheek, though he ignored it and hoped that Dumbledore would, too. "Is there some place like that, then?" he whispered.

The hope in his eyes, the lone tear, and Harry's forlorn voice were almost all the answer that Dumbledore needed. He nodded. "I believe there is. Do you trust me, Harry?"

Without hesitation, Harry said, "With my life, sir."

"Excellent." Before Harry could ask any more questions, or come up with more reasons why he shouldn't deal with what was so obviously tearing him up inside, Dumbledore said, "Nocturna!" and Harry immediately fell into a deep, sleep-like state. He slumped backward into the chair, snoring slightly, his mouth ajar.

Dumbledore smiled at him affectionately. "I hope you don't resent me for this, Harry. Severus!" he called. "You may come in now."

Snape entered the office and looked down his nose at Harry, the usual sneer on his face. He'd been lurking just outside the door and had heard every word of the conversation that had just taken place. "You didn't tell Potter he would be accompanied by me," he pointed out.

"I may be old, Severus, but I am not stupid. Now, we have much to do." He rose from behind his desk and approached Snape. Harry grunted in his sleep and curled up in the chair. "I will pack Harry's things to send along with you. How soon can you be ready to go?"

"I'll need a couple of hours to pack myself. The supplies I'll need will take much longer."

"Get me a list, and I'll send them along after you, along with lesson plans from Harry's other teachers."

Snape nodded agreement. "How long will he sleep?" he asked, looking down at Harry.

"Until you lift the enchantment," Dumbledore said. "We should get him away as quickly as possible. The fewer who know that Harry has left here the better. Have you provided our mutual acquaintance with an explanation for your absence?"

Snape nodded. "I have told him only that I'm going on holiday. I do not want him to know about . . . my niece . . . in the event . . ."

Dumbledore understood and nodded once. "Holiday, Severus? You?"

"That is exactly what the Dark Lord said," Snape noted. "In exactly that same tone. But then he told me that I deserved a holiday and told me to . . . enjoy myself. I suspect I will make the journey home several times over the course of the summer, for him and for you. I will not be completely out of touch."

"I know of no one who deserves a real holiday more than you do, Severus," said Dumbledore. "I only wish it _were _a real holiday." Dumbledore clapped his hands. "Let us proceed and get Harry safely away before anyone has time to notice he has gone."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. One of the characters is just under 16 in the beginning. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

2 _Stand_

Harry awoke in stages, coming to the realization slowly that he was in an unfamiliar place. He stared at the ceiling, unwilling to move from the delicious comfort of this bed, which was easily the softest and largest he'd ever slept in and smelled like fresh air and sunshine. If he could just stay in this pleasant cocoon for a few weeks, everything would be fine. Nothing bad could touch you in a bed like this.

He yawned hugely and sat up. He located his glasses on the nearby stand and put them on so that he could inspect his surroundings. He was in a bedroom, that much was obvious, but where? He stretched fully, then threw the blanket back to discover that he was wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants. How had that happened? He had no memory of arriving here, or getting undressed, or anything after a vague recollection of being in Dumbledore's office, talking about going away somewhere. Wherever this was, it must be the "somewhere" Dumbledore talked about. His stomach gurgled loudly, letting him know, now that he was awake, that something to eat would be really nice. He wondered how long he'd been sleeping.

Harry's drowsy complacency ended instantly when he heard a loud clatter from somewhere outside the room. He jumped out of bed, looking frantically about him for his wand. His rucksack sat at the foot of the bed, and he dove for it, finding his wand safely stowed inside. He also noticed that his trunk sat at the foot of the bed, but he had no time to wonder how it got there or when he'd packed his things.

He opened the door to his room, slowly and noiselessly, and crept out into the carpeted hallway. He paused, listening, surveying. There were two closed doors to his right and another to his left, as well as an open door to the left. As he stalked barefooted and silent down the carpeted hall, he discovered the open door led to the loo.

The other end of the hallway opened into what appeared to be a kitchen, which was where Harry was guessing the noise had come from. He peered around the corner, his wand at the ready, and was surprised to find a girl, about his age he was guessing though he could only see her from behind, kneeling on the floor picking up muffin tins that she'd apparently dropped. As she began to stand, she noticed him there.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "Did I wake you?"

Harry now realized that his heart was racing, and he willed it to return to its normal rhythm. Slowly it complied as he came to the realization that she was not a threat, and he stepped into the kitchen.

When she stood completely, she was almost as tall as he was, with glossy hair the color of raven feathers that hung loosely to her shoulders and dark, almost black, eyes. She wore a baby blue t-shirt that proclaimed that she was the property of the University of Maine Athletic Department, dark blue athletic shorts, and footie socks on her feet, one orange and one lime green. In her black hair he saw several strands streaked pink, blue, green and orange.

"No," he said. "I was already . . . I didn't know . . . I thought . . . I thought you might be someone else," he finished feebly.

"And were you going to beat me up with your little stick?" she asked mischievously.

Harry realized he was still pointing his wand at her, and he lowered it, blushing slightly.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. "I'm making breakfast. That's what all the noise was about."

"You talk funny," was all Harry could think to say.

"_I_ talk funny?!" she asked incredulously.

"Are you from America?" he asked. He'd never actually met an American, but he'd heard them on the telly, and she sure sounded like one.

"Buddy, I'm _in _America," she said, turning back to the stove and giving a final stir to the eggs she had cooking there.

"What?" Harry asked, unable to believe what she was apparently saying. He was in the United States of America?!

"'Wot?'" she teased. "Yes, Gov'na, you're in the good ole' US of A. Welcome."

Harry heard one of the doors behind him open, and he whirled around, wand at the ready once again. The person that he saw approaching made him want to use it very badly.

"Potter," Snape said in acknowledgment. "Put that away," he said quietly. "You won't be needing it."

Harry seemed frozen in shock, and Snape reached over and lowered Harry's arm.

"Good morning," the girl said brightly. "Ready for breakfast?"

"Do you announce every meal by making such an infernal racket, child?" Snape asked as he passed Harry and proceeded toward the table in the dining room.

"Only on days that end with a Y," she joked.

"What is going on here?" Harry asked through gritted teeth, keeping himself from yelling at the top of his voice only by the strongest effort of will. "What are you . . . this can't be . . . Am I in hell?" he asked, his anguish filling the room.

"Quite a little dramatic streak he's got there," the girl noted to Snape as she also went around Harry to place dishes of food on the table.

"Quite," Snape agreed, not looking at Harry as he sat and prepared to eat.

The girl passed him again on her way back to the kitchen. "Sit," she urged. "Eat. You must be starving."

Harry seemed unable to move. Was this someone's idea of a joke? Was he in the midst of yet another nightmare? Because that was sure what it felt like. The girl passed him again, this time placing a carafe filled with something that smelled really good on the table. She then came to stand behind him, placed her hands on his back, and pushed him into the dining room. Harry stumbled forward to a chair directly across from Snape and sat.

Although he was teetering on the edge of starvation, he didn't eat. He couldn't. He simply stared at Snape, hoping, with the force of his gaze, to make him disappear or at least turn him into someone Harry could stand. Snape looked up and caught him staring. He seemed a little taken aback by the strength of the animosity in Harry's glare, but he covered it quickly.

"What is going on?" Harry asked again, and he wondered if his teeth were going to remain permanently clenched, which would make it rather difficult to eat when his stomach unknotted enough to allow him to do so.

"This is my niece, Serafina," Snape said, which didn't answer the question at all.

"Call me that, however, and you'll regret it," she informed Harry cheerfully.

Harry had no time for her and continued to stare at Snape.

"There will be time later for questions," Snape told him, obviously not wanting to speak in front of the girl.

"And answers," Harry said. It wasn't a question.

Snape nodded. "Now eat."

Although he didn't think he'd be able to, Harry did manage to eat. In fact, he ate a great deal. Either this girl was a wonderful cook or he hadn't eaten in two days (or maybe it was both), but he hardly looked up again until he'd polished off two plates of scrambled eggs, four toast, six pieces of bacon, and three blueberry muffins. He washed it all down with three cups of coffee. When he finished, his stomach felt a little too full, but he felt much better. It was amazing what rest and good food could do for a person.

Snape had finished eating minutes before Harry and watched him polish off the rest of his food, staring in amazement and disgust at the almost animal-like way Harry was shoveling food into his mouth. Harry caught him looking once, but didn't let it bother him. The man taught at a boarding school – surely he'd seen teenaged boys eating before.

When he finished, he stared at Snape, and his silent message was obvious. Now.

"Thank you, Miss Mallory," Snape said formally. "Once we've finished downstairs, Potter will help you to clean up. Follow me, Potter."

Gladly. Harry pushed his chair back and followed Snape to the door he'd come through earlier to ruin his life. The door led to the basement, and Harry followed Snape's retreating back down the stairs. The basement had been divided into two sections, one of which was open and contained the furnace, an oil tank, and a washer and dryer, along with other miscellaneous things which Muggles kept in their basements. The other half of the basement had been boarded up to create a separate room, a room which had a door with a lock, and it was into this room that Snape now led Harry.

"What . . ." Harry started, but Snape held up a hand to silence him until he'd closed the door.

"I thought I told you to put that way," Snape said, nodding at Harry's wand.

"Think I'll keep it with me for a bit, if it's all the same to you," Harry said defensively.

Snape shrugged. "Suit yourself." He wasn't afraid of the _legendary _Harry Potter.

"What is going on? Where am I? Why am I here? Why are _you _here?" Harry had so many questions he hardly knew where to start.

"We'll get to all of that, but first you must know one thing. My niece knows nothing of magic. She is, for all intents and purposes, a Muggle. And she will not learn what we are from you, will she, Potter?"

Harry gave a small nod of his head to indicate his understanding.

"Good. You are here because the Headmaster felt that getting you away from surroundings which have caused you pain," Snape sneered at this, clearly expressing the disdain he felt for whatever emotional anguish Harry was experiencing and the pampered way he felt the boy was being treated, "would be beneficial to you. Trying to find a place where no one wanted to kill you was difficult in Europe. I had business here, and it seemed a safe enough place for a time."

"But where is here?"

"Maine."

"And exactly where is that?"

"Your knowledge of geography is just as appalling as your knowledge of so many other things. Look it up."

"But how did I get here?"

"We apparated."

Apparated? All the way from England? But Harry had to have been basically unconscious at the time, since he didn't remember any of this. Which would mean, wouldn't it, that Snape had had to . . . carry him? Okay, maybe that didn't bear too much thinking about right now. Or ever. "Why don't I remember?"

"Dumbledore put you to sleep with a nocturna spell. Until you woke this morning, you'd been asleep for over twenty hours. Although I lifted the spell after six hours, so the rest of the time you were just being lazy."

"And what is it we're supposed to be doing here?"

"As I said, I have business here involving my niece. While we are here, we are to get you caught up on your studies, and perhaps work on a new thing or two that you might find useful. We'll also be conducting some potions research which Professor Dumbledore has assigned to me."

"Is that what this room is for?" Harry asking, waving a hand to indicate his surroundings.

Snape nodded. "We will need a private place, away from the prying eyes of Miss Mallory."

"She's your niece?" Harry asked, his eyes traveling around the room which already looked so much like Snape's office back at Hogwart's that Harry wondered if he'd somehow magically transferred it, perfectly intact, from there to here.

"That's something we are _not _going to discuss," Snape told him, and Harry looked at him with surprise, although really, anything Professor Snape did or said shouldn't be a surprise, not any more. "And I would appreciate it if you would address me as 'Professor' or 'Sir'."

"Fine. I'll ask _her_, _Sir_," was Harry's retort.

"You will stay away from her," Snape warned. "Don't forget she shares my blood, which means she is immune to the Potter charm that seems to bewitch everyone else. Your father had it, too. Used it to laze his way through school." Snape seemed unable to stop himself from goading Harry, and he got the reaction he knew he would.

Harry stepped closer until he was a foot from Snape. He was no longer an intimidated boy of eleven, coming only to Snape's midsection, and although he still had to look up, he stared straight at Snape. "Don't you dare speak ill of my father!" he shot back, though with not the same fervor he would have defended his father a few short months ago. Now that he knew how his father had treated Snape when they were students together at Hogwarts, Harry could hardly blame Snape for his opinion of James. But still, James was his father, and Snape wasn't going to malign him unchecked.

When Snape only stared blandly back at him, Harry realized Snape was deliberately trying to provoke him, and he stepped back angrily. "This is not going to work! I can't stay here, not with you! I demand to speak with Dumbledore!"

"You _demand_?!" Snape repeated, sneer firmly in place. "Who are you to _demand_?"

"If I don't get to speak with Dumbledore, now, I will walk up those stairs and out the door and I won't stop until . . ."

"Until what?" Snape urged, knowing that Harry was making an empty threat.

"I want to speak with Professor Dumbledore," Harry growled.

Actually, Dumbledore had known that once Harry learned what his fate was to be for the summer, he'd want an opportunity to vent directly to the Headmaster, and they'd already made provisions for a meeting. But Harry didn't know that, and Snape enjoyed tormenting Harry too much to let any opportunity pass.

"I will see what I can do," he said. "Now why don't you go and help Miss Mallory clean up."

"I am not a house elf!" Harry snapped.

"Neither is she," Snape pointed out. "This isn't Hogwart's, Potter. Get used to it. And heed my warning, boy. If she learns about magic from you, not even Dumbledore will be able to protect you."

Harry stomped up the stairs and into the kitchen. He had no real aversion to household chores. He'd certainly done his fair share of them at the Dursley's. Actually, he'd done more than his fair share, as Dudley had never been forced to raise a finger around the house. What irked him beyond reason was Dumbledore's complicity in sending him away with a man he knew Harry hated and mistrusted. Had Dumbledore actually thought Harry and Snape could spend any amount of time together without being at each other's throats constantly? Adding to Harry's already healthy dislike of Snape was the feeling that Snape, by constantly deriding Sirius' inability to move about freely, casting him as cowardly, was in a small way responsible for Sirius' death.

This anger accompanied him into the kitchen. Serafina, her back to him once again, was rinsing a dish in the sink.

"What do you want me to do?" Harry asked sullenly.

She didn't respond.

"I said, what do you want me to do?" Harry asked, raising his voice.

Still she didn't respond. Oh, this was great, Harry thought. Not only did he have to deal with Snape's constant presence in his life, at least for now, this girl seemed to share her uncle's dislike for him, without having even really met him.

He crossed the kitchen in three strides, put his hand on her shoulder, and turned her roughly to face him. "I said . . ." He stopped at the look of fear that sprang instantly into her eyes at the surprise of his touch. When she was facing him, he realized that she had ear phones covering her ears and probably just hadn't heard him, and he felt immediately contrite.

"I . . . I'm sorry," he said, letting her go.

She took a step back from him, breathing hard, the wet dish in her hand dripping onto the floor. She pushed the ear phones down around her neck, and Harry could hear the tinny sound of music emanating from them.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," he said.

"Me?" she squeaked. "You didn't frighten me," she said with a weak attempt at a smile, although the evidence to the contrary was overwhelming.

"Well, I'm sorry anyway. You didn't hear me, and I . . ."

"You were angry," she said perceptively. "My uncle seems to have that effect on people."

Harry smiled at her tentatively. Maybe she wasn't so bad – maybe she had the makings of a friend.

She smiled back, a full-wattage smile this time, and Harry was a little surprised at the way his heart did a backflip into the pit of his stomach, spreading warmth through his lower extremities. Maybe more than a friend?

"Did you want something?" she asked, feeling a little shy at his scrutiny.

"Want something?" he repeated, his face coloring a little, wondering if she'd just read his mind. "Oh . . . um . . . I just wondered what you wanted me to do," he said, looking into her black eyes, unable to look away. "I was supposed to help you clean up."

"Well that's convenient," she joked. "I'm all done." She, also, seemed unable to look away.

Harry realized that something was dripping onto his bare feet, and he broke the spell they were under when he looked down. He was a little embarrassed to discover that he was still wearing his PJ's. "You're dripping," he informed her.

"Oh," she said, embarrassed herself, and she stepped away from him to dry the plate. "Really, I appreciate the offer, but I'm all set."

"Sure?"

"Sure," she confirmed.

She was smiling at him again, and it was hard to think what to say next. "Good then," was the best he could manage.

"Would you like to take a walk with me?" she asked.

"I would like that very much. Your uncle has warned me to stay away from you."

"Screw him," she said irreverently. "He doesn't own me. See that path out there?" She pointed out the kitchen window to the back yard. Harry could clearly see a path wending it's way through the trees at the edge of the yard, and he nodded. "I'll go now. Go get dressed and meet me there."

"All right."

Harry heard Snape's approaching steps and took a step back from her, taking the towel from her hand as he did. When Snape entered the kitchen, Harry was hanging the towel on the rack.

"All done," Serafina said brightly.

Snape looked from one to the other, somehow sensing a vibration in the room that he didn't like. He shook his head to clear it away. They'd only been doing the dishes.

"Potter. Basement." He turned and left them after issuing his edict.

"I have to do this," Harry told her quietly.

Serafina rolled her eyes. "I'll wait for you," she said, just as softly.

He smiled at her again and turned to follow Snape, suddenly not sure that there weren't reasons to stay here.

##########

Harry was surprised to find Dumbledore standing in Snape's basement office. He'd been expecting a conversation, but not face-to-face.

"Professor!"

"Harry, you look well," Dumbledore noted, searching Harry's eyes with his own piercing blues.

Harry blushed, not for the first time wondering whether Dumbledore had the ability to read his mind or look into his soul. "Sir, I wanted to talk to you about my situation."

"Yes, Harry. I thought you might have some objections. Which is why I didn't share all of the details of our little plan with you."

Harry glanced at Snape, unsure he wanted to continue this conversation in his presence. "May we speak alone, sir?" he asked Dumbledore.

"If you wish. Severus, would you mind leaving us for a moment?"

Snape scowled at Harry, but he said, "Not at all," and he left the room. Harry closed the door behind him.

"Thank you for coming, Professor. I didn't mean for you to come all this way. Did you apparate?"

"Apparating is a useful thing, Harry. I've asked Professor Snape to begin lessons with you while you're here."

This bit of news excited Harry a little. Students didn't normally begin learning how to disapparate until well into their sixth year. Was this another reason to stick around?

"Professor, you can't really mean for me to stay the summer here with Snape!"

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected gently.

"You know how I feel about him. I don't trust him!"

"Harry, you told me that you trusted _me."_

"You know I do, sir."

"Then you have to trust me that Professor Snape really does have your best interests at heart. I know the two of you don't see eye to eye, and I think you understand some of the reasons for that. But I would never entrust your well-being to someone whom I didn't have the utmost confidence in."

Harry sighed. He'd been prepared to put up a vigorous fight about remaining here. He knew he was stuck – he couldn't disapparate himself out of here, he had no Muggle money for an airline ticket, he had no broomstick, and even if he did, could you fly one of those over an ocean? There were so many reasons to think that this summer might be one of the worst he'd ever experienced, worse even than those spent with the Dursleys, and a part of him wanted to scream at Dumbledore to release him from this prison. He was almost certain that if he protested enough, Dumbledore would indeed take him home.

But he now had three things telling him to stay, at least for a while, to give this a try – two eyes the color of dark brown chocolate and one smile that messed up his insides. Even with all of the problems that might come along with attempting to form even a friendship with Serafina Mallory, Harry couldn't help himself. He wanted to try.

Harry slumped his shoulders, attempting to look as though he'd been defeated by the force of Dumbledore's brilliant arguments in favor of his staying here. "All right, sir. I'll stay."

He looked up into Dumbledore's eyes, which were now sparkling with humor. He hadn't been fooled by Harry's performance, not one bit, and they shared a small smile.

"Good boy. Shall I place a toleration spell on you so that you'll not want to harm poor Professor Snape every time you look at him?"

"How about you try that same spell on him?" Harry suggested. "Am I to stay here the entire summer, sir?"

"That is the current plan, though you will need to return to Privet Drive briefly at the end of the summer, to keep your protection in place, as we discussed a short time ago. We'll see how things go."

"Did Hedwig come with me?" Harry wanted to know.

"Hedwig will be enjoying a relaxing summer at the owlery at Hogwart's. She sends you her regards."

Harry smiled at this.

"Try to make this work, Harry," Dumbledore advised. "I think this could be really good for you. You already look more rested than I've seen you in a long time. Give the healing some time. I'll instruct Professor Snape to give you a week, then you should return to your lessons. All of your professors have given Severus lesson plans, so you won't just be working with potions and the dark arts."

"Potions!" Harry said, reminded of something Snape had said earlier. "Am I to be Snape's guinea pig?"

"_Professor_ Snape's guinea pig," Dumbledore corrected. "I've told him he should attempt not to permanently maim or disfigure you."

"Oh, that makes me feel loads better," Harry noted.

"But you'll stay?"

Harry nodded. "I'll stay, Professor, but only with the understanding that if this gets unbearable, I can change my mind and go home."

"Deal," Dumbledore said. He put out his hand and they shook on it. Before he let go of Harry's hand, Dumbledore said, "Do yourself a favor, Harry, and try to win Severus over. Having him actively on your side can be very advantageous."

"Not sure that's possible, sir, but thanks for the advice."

"Good then," Dumbledore said, giving Harry's hand one last shake and releasing it. "Could you send Professor Snape back in on your way out? Oh, and Harry?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Is she _very _pretty?"

Harry could feel himself blushing again, sure now that Dumbledore _had _read every thought that had passed through his head since he'd entered this room. He smiled and nodded.

Dumbledore smiled in return, then waved Harry away with both hands. "Begone with you. Remember – Harry Potter, the normal, unmagical teenaged boy."

Still smiling, Harry opened the door. Snape was slouching against the stairs, waiting for his summons to return. As he passed him, Harry stopped. "Professor, I just wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. I know that you have gone to great trouble to bring me here, and I want you to know that I sincerely appreciate it." Harry felt after that performance he might just be ready for the stage.

Snape waited for the insult or taunt that he was sure had to follow such a statement. When it didn't come, he looked suspiciously at Harry. What was the boy up to now? "Er – off with you, then," he said gruffly.

"Yes, sir."

As he went up the stairs, Harry looked back into Snape's office, smiled at Dumbledore behind Snape's back, and waved. Dumbledore winked at him just before the door closed once again. Harry skipped up the stairs and into his room to change before Snape could return and keep him from his appointed meeting with the radiant Serafina.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. One of the characters is just under 16 in the beginning. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

3 _Knowledge_

Harry looked back at the house one last time to make sure he wasn't being observed before setting out into the woods. As soon as the path turned into the trees so that the house was no longer visible, he found Serafina waiting for him. She was now dressed in cutoff jean shorts, a brightly-colored tie-dyed shirt, and mismatched trainers (one black, one yellow). On her head sat a bright pink baseball cap with a red "B" embroidered on it, her hair caught up in a pony tail that was held together by the hole in the back of the cap. She wore such bright and varied colors that her clothing was almost audible.

"Hello," Harry said, smiling foolishly.

"Hi," she said shyly. "I wanted to show you something."

She began to walk further along the path, and Harry fell into step beside her. There were so many things he wanted to ask her. He was itching to find out all there was to know about her, but he knew that he could not answer similar questions if she posed them to him, so he kept his mouth shut.

They walked for a brief time in silence, until Serafina asked, "Have you known my uncle for a long time?"

This was safe enough. "Too long," was the response that wanted to trip through his lips, but instead he said, "For about five years."

"And just what is your relationship?"

"He teaches at the school I go to back home," he told her.

"And why exactly did he bring you here with him?"

"That is a really long and complicated story," Harry said, hoping she wouldn't be offended if he couldn't tell it. "And one that I think your uncle would not be happy that I told you."

"Is he some kind of perv?" she blurted out, as though she'd been holding back from asking him this question forever.

Confused, Harry repeated, "Perv?"

"You know, a pervert. A guy who touches little boys."

Horrified at what she was implying, Harry's eyes widened, and he said, "No! Ewww! No no no! It's nothing like _that_! I think I may vomit!" And he stopped walking, afraid that he might actually be about to lose the contents of his stomach the thought was so revolting.

"Sorry," Serafina said with a shrug. "I just wondered. I don't know much about him. He just sort of showed up after the people from the State wrote to him. And you were with him. He said you were sleeping. I don't think I've ever known someone to sleep for such a long time. He doesn't have a telephone, did you know that?"

Harry gave a nod that he hoped was noncommital, and they started walking again. He didn't know whether or not Snape did, in fact, have a telephone, but he wouldn't be surprised to learn he did not. Most wizards didn't for the simple reason that they didn't need them. Quite frankly, now that he was forced to think about it, he didn't even know where Snape lived during the summer. He most likely didn't remain at Hogwart's year-round, so he must have another residence, but Harry didn't know where it was or what it looked like, nor did he care.

"He didn't come the first time," Serafina offered. "After my mother died."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, with genuine feeling. "When . . . when did she die?"

"Seven years ago. Drug overdose. She had issues," Serafina understated. "They contacted Uncle Severus then. And what kind of name is Severus, anyway? That's just weird. Although my mother's name was Sacilia, so maybe their mother had a grudge against both of them. And then look what my mother named me!"

Harry could tell that having a conversation with her would require concentration to follow her disjointed thought process. "He didn't come then? When your mum died?"

"No. But Gram was willing to take me, so at least I didn't have to go into a foster home."

"Was she good to you, your gram?"

Sera shrugged. "She was really old" (her grandmother had been sixty-three at the time of her death) "and had some health problems. I think mostly she was just glad to have someone around to do most of the work. But it was okay," she added quickly, realizing that she sounded ungrateful. "It was nice to have a roof over my head every night and food on the table. And I didn't mind helping."

"She was your dad's mum?"

"Mm hmm," she confirmed.

"And where is your dad?" Harry realized what a personal question that was just after it left his mouth, and he said quickly, "I'm sorry. That's none of my business, really."

"No, it's okay. I never really knew my dad. He left when I a baby. Mom and I lived with him then at Gram's house, here. After he took off, Mom kind of went to pieces. She took me and just left Gram without saying where we were going. She had no job, no education, no money. I have no idea where my father is now."

"So did you have no one to love you, then?" Harry asked, surprised to find himself close to tears at the similarities between her life and his.

Serafina stopped, causing Harry to do the same, and she looked into his eyes, wondering about the sadness she saw there. "Mom tried. I think she didn't have such a great childhood herself, so she really didn't know how to be a parent. But she tried, I'll give her that."

Serafina was fooling herself, not very successfully – she knew it, and Harry could tell. Her mother had never loved her. She'd been a way to trap Serafina's father into rescuing her from the hell that was her life. And it had worked, for a time. But when the irresponsible seventeen-year old vanished one night when Sera was eight months old, Sacilia couldn't take living in this remote area with only her boyfriend's mother and an infant for company, and she'd left, too. Sera had become nothing but a burden to be dragged from one hellish situation to another. Sera had often wondered why her mother hadn't just left her with her grandmother, and she'd never come up with a satisfactory answer to that question.

But Serafina didn't know Harry well enough to confess any of these details, not yet anyway. She started walking again, and Harry followed suit.

"When Mom died, we were in Kentucky. I told the people there about my grandmother. I also told them that my mother had mentioned that she had a brother who lived in England and taught at some boarding school. I knew his name, but nothing else. Although, how many people could there be running around England with a name like Severus Snape? They managed to track him down, but he didn't come. I guess he figured it wasn't necessary since Gram was willing to take me. So I came back here to live. Gram died last month. They contacted Uncle Severus again, and this time he came."

"And what is he going to do?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. I'm not even really sure why he came. Maybe to see whether he liked me or not. But he spends most of his time down in the basement. He's built some kind of room down there. Well, you saw it. I don't know what he does down there, but he sure did build it fast. Kind of weird, actually. He'd only been here for like a day before I got here from the foster home, and it was all done!"

"Maybe he had help?" Harry suggested, although he knew better.

Serafina shrugged. "Maybe."

"What would you like him to do?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. He's family. At least he has that going for him."

"Take my word for it – being family doesn't mean that someone has to love you." The tears were threatening again. Why did he always feel like crying, dammit? And why now, when he was having such a nice conversation with this pretty girl? Blubbering like a baby would make a great first impression!

They'd reached the spot that Serafina had meant to show him, but she no longer cared about that. She stopped again and grabbed Harry's hand, forcing him to stop as well. She searched his eyes. "You know what that's like?" she whispered.

He nodded and looked away, unable to bear her scrutiny. "I lost both my parents when I was just a baby. I was raised by an aunt and uncle. They never loved me. They barely fed me, barely clothed me, only sent me to school because they had to. But they never loved me, not even a little. They still don't." He turned back to look at her, ashamed that the tears he could not contain were now coursing down both cheeks. "I was a baby, helpless and alone. Why couldn't they love me? Was it too much to ask? Am I that bad?"

Serafina couldn't help it. She took this virtual stranger into her arms and held him while he cried. Harry cried for a long while, releasing some of the grief that had been pent up inside. The grief wasn't for the child foisted upon relatives unable to love him, which is what Serafina supposed it was. He'd gotten over that a long time ago (or so he constantly told himself). The grief and the tears were for Cedric and for Sirius, and if Harry had been able to release even a little bit of the emotion he was venting now prior to this, he might never have had to come here.

Serafina pulled Harry down to sit beside her on a large tree stump the size of a small table, left there after lightning years ago claimed the tree that had once stood on this spot. She held him to her neck while he cried, and she didn't try to shush him or tell him it was going to be all right. She'd hated it when people had done that to her. Surprisingly enough, given that her own grief was as fresh as Harry's, she didn't revert to tears herself. She'd let most of hers out already, though she supposed that she wasn't done with them by any means. This moment was about Harry, her new friend, and the grief she somehow sensed he'd been holding onto for a long, long time and letting him get it out, however long it took.

Finally, Harry's sobs lessened until he was taking great gulping breaths of air. He was ashamed to look at Serafina. Blokes didn't cry in front of girls, especially girls they'd only met that morning. When he finally had himself under control, he pushed himself away from her. "I'm sorry," he said, looking at the lake which lay stretched in front of him.

"Don't worry about it. Better out than in."

Harry's mind jumped back to a time when he'd heard Hagrid say those very words. That memory made him happy, and he smiled in spite of his embarrassment.

"What is this place?" he asked, wiping at his eyes, needing a change in subject.

"It's a lake," she said, stating the obvious. "I come here a lot. It's really very peaceful. You can sit here and watch the birds and the animals. If you're quiet you'll see deer and moose and rabbits and fox. Even a bear occasionally. And ducks and geese and loons and heron and eagle. It's like no one else in the world exists, only you."

"It's beautiful," Harry said, sniffing.

"My grandmother owned all of the land around it, so now it's _my _lake," she said proudly. She looked sideways at him. "Are you okay?"

He looked at her now, and he fell into the bottomless depths of her dark eyes.

"I'm fine. Thank you," he said. "I think I needed that."

"You're welcome," she said with a smile. "Can I ask you a question?"

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. "Sure," he said, hoping he could answer it.

She reached a finger up and traced his lightning-shaped scar from one end to the other. Her touch sent a sensation much like electricity coursing through him. "How did you get this?"

Harry hesitated, but only for a second. "My aunt and uncle never really talked about it. They told me my parents were killed in a car crash. I always assumed I was in the car and got it then." It wasn't the truth, and he knew it, but it was what he had once believed to be the truth, and it would have to do for now.

"Can I ask _you _a question?" he asked, wanting to shift her focus off him.

"Sure," she said.

He reached up and removed her baseball cap, causing her hair to cascade over her shoulders, where it shimmered in the morning sunlight. He fingered the multi-colored strands of hair on her head. "Is this your real hair?"

"No, silly," she said with a smile. "It just clips in."

Harry's hand dropped a little, and he softly stroked her cheek. When she smiled at him, that now-familiar sensation of his heart taking flight struck him again, and he said, without mulling it over first, "I think . . . I think I'd like to kiss you."

Serafina looked away from him quickly, and her expression saddened, though she didn't pull away from his touch. "I . . . don't think that's such a good idea."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, mentally kicking himself, and he pulled his hand away quickly. He was moving way too fast. What was wrong with him? This wasn't like him at all. "I don't know what I was thinking. I just met you this morning, for heaven's sake. Why would I think you'd want to kiss me so quickly? Why would I think you'd want to kiss me at all? I mean, really, you must have dozens of opportunities to kiss boys." Harry blushed. "I didn't mean to imply that you have dozens of boys. I just meant . . . you're so pretty, you must have loads of boys who _want _to kiss you." He finally wound to a stop, cheeks red with embarrassment, unable to look at her.

She took one of his hands gently in her own. With the other, she turned his chin so that he was facing her. "It isn't that I don't _want _to kiss you. I do, very badly, in fact," she assured him. "But that's why it's not a good idea. Because we did just meet this morning, and I'm _not _my mother."

At Harry's look of confusion, Serafina explained. "My mother had nothing going for her except for the way she looked. And she used that to seduce men, men she thought would take care of her. But all that ever got her, and me, was abused, and mistreated, and neglected. All it got her was a drug habit that she could never kick, not that she ever really tried, and that eventually killed her. My grandmother says . . . used to say I look just like her, and I will not use whatever physical characteristics I might have inherited from her to . . . use boys. I will not give my soul away like she did!" She squeezed his hand. "I'm not saying that we should never kiss," she said, giving him hope. "I'm only saying not today."

"Tomorrow?" Harry asked hopefully. "That will be the day _after _we met."

Serafina smiled at him and laughed. "We'll see."

They sat quietly for a minute, still holding hands. Neither seemed to want to let go. "What am I to call you?" Harry asked. "You said I wasn't to call you Serafina."

She didn't reply for a moment. "Say it again," she requested, closing her eyes.

"Serafina?"

She shuddered and opened her eyes. "Most people call me Sera. But no one's ever said my name like that – more like a song than a word. I've never liked my name until now. You can call me either, but if you call me Serafina, you might want to be prepared for . . . things to happen."

"Like what, Serafina?" he asked deliberately, then waited expectantly.

"Like this," she said, and she leaned closer and kissed his cheek.

It wasn't what he'd been hoping for, but it would do for today.

"We'd better be getting back," she said. "Uncle will be wondering where we've got to."

"If he finds out about . . ." Harry waved his hand vaguely back and forth between the two of them, "this – You have no idea how bad that would be."

"We'll be careful," she promised. "Some small stupid part of me is still hoping that he'll decide he's going to . . . forget it. It's not important."

But Harry knew it was important, and he stood up and pulled her to her feet. He hugged her quickly, then let her go. He knew that yearning for belonging, and it _was _important. He hoped she didn't get her heart broken. He wasn't sure he'd be able to forgive Snape for that.

##########

The first week of Harry's new situation went by relatively peacefully. Snape spent much of his time in the basement, allowing Harry and Sera a chance to get to know each other. They walked every day to the lake, where they sat and talked or just enjoyed the beautiful day.

Harry learned many things about Sera. He learned that she was a wonderful cook – she loved experimenting with new recipes and often checked cookbooks out of the local library. She loved to barbecue and had already done so on numerous occasions since Harry's arrival here.

He learned that although school here was still in session, Sera didn't attend because she'd been asked not to return this semester due to a violent outburst which had occurred shortly after her grandmother's death. She'd struck a male teacher who had put an arm around her, in an unwanted attempt to comfort her. She'd apologized, but the administration had felt it best if she didn't return until the fall. She was bright and had no friends, which meant that her school work was always caught up or prepared ahead of time, so she'd had no problem passing her end-of-the year exams, and she'd simply stopped going to school.

He learned that she loved bright colors. Her room was filled with them, and her wardrobe was downright crazy at times. She seemed to have a different sense of what colors went together than most people had. She wore bright yellows and oranges and purples and pinks, sometimes all at the same time, and her footwear, including socks and shoes, never matched. She was a beacon of brightness in an otherwise drab world, and the contrast between her and her uncle in this regard was striking.

He learned she went nowhere without music and had a large collection of CD's that she listened to either on a portable player or in one of the stereo systems in the house. Her taste was eclectic – she liked everything from old country to hard rock. It was as though Sera's life was a movie with a soundtrack – the music was always present underneath, sometimes quiet and barely noticeable and sometimes louder with an increase in drama. She seemed to know the words to every song she heard and often sang along, most loudly in the shower.

He learned that she was artistically talented, something she'd inherited from her father, according to her grandmother. Her grandmother had frowned on this talent, thinking it a useless skill and one which had made her only child soft and virtually useless on a farm. Sera loved to sketch with pencil, though she was comfortable with other mediums, and she often brought a pad of paper with her to the lake. Harry had seen her portfolio, consisting mostly of landscapes and animals, and thought she was wonderfully good. She'd proven her hand at sketching human subjects as well when she gave Harry a drawing she'd done of him. She also liked to write, short stories mostly. Harry had convinced her to let him read some of her stories, and he thought she was very talented in this area as well. She wrote frequently in a diary, which she would _not _let Harry read.

He learned that she loved to play basketball, and she spent many happy hours shooting hoops in the driveway. It had only taken a couple of days for her to press Harry into playing with her, although he knew nothing about the game. After allowing him to rebound for her at first, she had begun to teach him the rudiments of defense so that she'd have someone to actually play against. Although he had nothing to judge her by, he thought she might have been pretty good. She moved with an athlete's fluid grace, and simply watching her fascinated him. While she played, the ever-present baseball cap was worn backward.

He learned that every night she watched baseball on television. Her favorite team was the Boston Red Sox (it was their cap she wore on her head), and every night that they were playing (which was almost every night) would find her plunked in front of the television set, snacks and drinks at the ready, for the three or so hours that the games took. Harry knew less about baseball than he did about basketball, and quite frankly, the game bored him (as did any game that didn't involve flying broomsticks), but he watched with her just because he enjoyed being in her presence so much, and he let her explain the rules to him even though he could have cared less and remembered little of what she told him.

He learned that she loved the rain. Evening rain showers didn't drive her inside. In fact, if she was inside when it began to rain, she would go out and stand in the rain, raising her face to the heavens. Harry had dragged her forcibly back into the house the night of the thunder storm, sure she'd be struck by lightning.

He learned that she loved to read and that her favorite writers were local Stephen King and English authors Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, and the Brontë sisters. Sometimes, rather than talking, they would read aloud from one of these books, Sera making him read the part of the male characters just to hear him speak in that accent she found so musical and appealing.

And finally, as she became more comfortable with him and opened up more to him, he learned that her mother had moved her from squalid place to squalid place, leaving her alone for hours and sometimes days at a time since before she could really remember, or worse yet, leaving her in the care of suspect strangers who either ignored her or deliberately hurt her, including one man who had nearly raped her. Her mother, unable to afford the drugs she craved, had given her dealer her seven-year old daughter as payment. The only reason that Sera had escaped that experience still sexually innocent, she told Harry, was that the man had been too impaired by drug or drink or both to act on his impulses and had merely fallen asleep in the bed beside a badly frightened Sera. Harry's own experiences with the Dursleys gained a new perspective as he listened to Sera confess the horrors of her childhood.

Harry had never met anyone he found so easy to talk to, and although he had to tread carefully around the details of his own life, he found himself sharing memories of his younger years with the Dursleys. These were unpleasant memories, but relatively safe to share, and Harry so wanted to share with her.

They had a lot of common ground in their childhoods. They'd both known hunger, maltreatment at the hands of those who were supposed to protect them, and neglect by those very same people. Neither had had anyone they could trust to look out for their welfare and had had to rely on themselves at a very early age. Neither had had friends during their younger years (Sera still didn't), and although Harry had always had a house in which he stayed, neither had felt that they had a real home until Harry began at Hogwart's, and Sera's grandmother died, strangely enough. It was only then that the farmhouse had come to feel like a home to Sera. Their lives had run very parallel courses during their formative years, and it was only natural that they would find that common ground comforting.

Harry wondered if it were possible to fall in love at the very first site of someone, because he was now convinced, after knowing her for a week, that he had loved Serafina Mallory from the very moment he'd seen her in the kitchen. He went to sleep every night thinking about her, and he woke every morning with her on his mind. He liked being able to spend nearly all day with her and dreaded the coming of the new week, when his lessons with the odious Snape would begin.

##########

But begin they did, and Harry found it difficult to even attempt to follow Dumbledore's advice about getting on Snape's good side. Lessons went as badly as Harry had feared they would. Snape was his usual nasty, insulting and degrading self at every mistake. Harry found it more difficult to concentrate than usual, his mind outside by the lake with Serafina.

But worse even than the morning lessons were the two hours after lunch devoted to potions work. Harry helped to mix and measure and more than once was the unwilling test subject for some new brew that Snape had concocted. So far he'd gotten nothing worse than a mild stomachache, but he lived in fear that Snape would come up with something that would finish him off for good. He survived the trying days for his afternoons and evenings with Serafina.

##########

Shortly after their resumption of lessons, they were all gathered around the breakfast table. Snape cleared his throat after finishing his breakfast. "I'll expect you downstairs in ten minutes, Potter." He pushed his chair away from the table.

Sera slammed her coffee cup down on the table, causing the contents to slosh over the rim. Harry and Snape stared at her, startled. Sera got to her feet, obviously angry, and strode into the kitchen, where she began to gather dishes for washing, making much more noise than was warranted. Snape watched her for a moment before rising to his feet and leaving for the basement.

Harry sighed and got to his feet as well, sarcastically thanking Snape subliminally for leaving him to deal with whatever had made Sera angry. He gathered his dirty dishes and Snape's and joined Sera in the kitchen.

"Everything all right?" he asked her tentatively.

"Yes!" she said, obviously lying. "Why don't you just go on down to your _lesson_." From the way she emphasized that last word, it was clear to Harry that whatever she was angry about centered around his lessons with Snape. And it was also clear that she still harbored doubts about what was actually going on down in the basement.

"Sera, I . . ." he started, but she cut him off.

"Harry, just go," she said angrily. "I want to be alone. Go!" she said when he started to argue.

Harry gave in and went into his room to get dressed and gather his books. When he entered the basement classroom, he arranged his things and sat down with a sigh.

Snape shut the door, but didn't immediately begin the lesson.

"Do you and she . . . speak?" Snape finally asked after a moment's silence.

"Yes," Harry said, rather defiantly because he knew it was pointless to lie and because he suspected that Snape was going to give him grief for not obeying the warning to stay away from Sera. He hurried to explain himself. "She's the only other person here! It was either speak to her or speak to you, and quite frankly, she was the more attractive alternative."

Snape waved this away. He didn't really expect that the two teenagers would never speak. As long as they didn't become more involved than that. "I merely wondered if you knew what was troubling her. Clearly, _something _is."

Harry sat considering Snape for a moment. He thought about telling Snape to speak with his niece himself, but he doubted that would turn out well. "I . . . she thinks . . ." He couldn't put _that _idea into words. "Never mind what she thinks. She hasn't told me this, but if I had to guess, I'd say she's jealous of the time you spend down here. With me. She thought you were coming here to get to know her, to decide what you're going to do with her. You've been here over a week. How much time have you spent with her?"

Harry wondered if he'd gone too far, gotten too personal, but Snape merely looked thoughtful.

"Maybe you should . . ." Harry started to suggest, but Snape cut him off.

"Did you complete the assignment I gave you yesterday?"

Harry pulled the parchment out from under his book and handed it over, settling himself in for another boring morning.

##########

When everyone had finished eating dinner that evening, Snape sat with a cup of tea. "Potter, would you leave us, please?" he requested.

Surprised, Harry looked at Snape, then at Sera. "Of course, sir." He went into his room and shut the door, pressing his ear against the keyhole to try to eavesdrop.

"Did I hear the telephone earlier today?" Snape asked.

"Mm hmm," Sera responded, still harboring some residual anger from this morning.

"You know, it would not kill you to show a little bit of respect when you're talking to adults. 'No, sir' and 'yes, ma'am' never hurt anyone."

"Yes, ma'am," Sera agreed impertinently.

"Who was on the phone?" Snape continued, keeping a tight reign on his patience.

"My social worker."

"And what did she want?"

"Just checking on me. That's her job."

Snape fought the urge to sigh. Was having a meaningful conversation with a teenager always this difficult, or was his niece particularly contrary? He'd certainly spoken _to _many teenagers over the years, but he'd never actually tried to have a conversation _with _one. It was almost like they spoke a foreign language. It was also strangely akin to pulling wortroot, a notoriously deep-growing root that resisted all attempts to pull it from the ground. "And you told her . . .?" he invited.

"I told her everything was fine."

"And that . . . satisfied her?" He was a little surprised that no officials had paid them a visit yet.

"She's easy to please. Got lots of kids to monitor, so she's fond of telling me," Sera said.

"And _is _everything fine?" Snape pressed.

"What do you mean?" Sera asked, suspicious about why he was asking. As much as she'd wanted him to pay attention to her, now that he was, she couldn't help but wonder why. Was this the result of her little huff this morning?

"Do you perceive that everything here is fine?" Snape tried again.

"I guess," was her answer.

"You guess?" The vagueness of the vernacular used by young people these days annoyed him to no end.

"Mm hmm. Do you think it's not?"

"No," Snape countered. "I thought everything seemed to be going along very smoothly. Until this morning." He paused to take a sip of his tea and then changed tacks. "You are remarkably efficient for someone your age." He'd been watching her manage this house – the meals, the cleaning, the laundry, and everything else – and he was impressed by her level of maturity. He wondered how long she'd been doing these things for her grandmother.

"Um, thanks?" Sera said, uncertain how much of a compliment he'd given her or even if he'd meant it as such.

"Why were you expelled from school?" he asked.

"I wasn't _expelled_. I was only suspended for the last few weeks of the year. Surely that must have been in my file. They must have told you about it."

They had. "I'd like to hear it from you."

Sera sighed and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Snape stared down at her, the look he'd used innumerable times on countless students, sure that it would intimidate her into compliance, as it almost always did. She merely looked back at him, even more defiant now that she thought she was being forced to talk. Snape retreated. "Please," he said. "There are always two sides to a story. I'd like to hear yours."

Sera unwound at the change in his attitude. "Well, I expect it's pretty much the same as the official version. My grandmother had just died. I was upset about that and about what would happen to me next. Maybe I shouldn't have been at school. There was a teacher . . ." Sera had been about to explain about Mr. Markham, the young, rather handsome history teacher who had always made Sera uncomfortable with his extra attention, the way he spoke to her, the way he touched her arm or put a hand on her back. She changed her mind, though, because it sounded egotistical even to herself to say that she thought this teacher liked her much more than a teacher should like a student. He'd never really said anything inappropriate – it was more of an instinctual feeling she had.

Snape sat and studied her while she sorted this through, struggling with himself against the urge to legillimens her and losing. When he saw what she'd been enduring from this teacher, he had a difficult time suppressing his reaction. Despite her reluctance to put a name to it, the teacher _had _been on the verge of sexually harassing her. Snape knew this, and he knew also that if he had the man before him now, he might be on the losing end of a particularly nasty curse. Snape schooled himself to remain impassive, wondering how much of this she would choose to share.

In his room, Harry wished he could have somehow warned Sera about her uncle's ability to look into her thoughts if he chose to do so. Although since he himself had never been able to stop Snape from doing this to him, he wasn't sure he would have been able to offer her any advice to help her avoid the same fate. Still, a person had the right to be warned about such a thing.

Finally, Sera shook her head as though to remove unwanted images and continued. "He put his arm around me. We were alone in a classroom. He said he'd seen me there and came in because he was concerned about me." She looked out the window as she spoke, unable to look at her uncle and risk him seeing the emotions that raged inside her that were most likely echoing in her eyes.

"And?" Snape prompted softly.

She looked at him again, briefly. "When he put his arm around me, I . . ." Here Sera stopped again, reliving that awful night, many years ago, when her mother had used her so horribly. The brief glimpse into her eyes and her memories had provided Snape with images he would have preferred never to see. He didn't know why his young niece was in the bed of a fully grown, obviously intoxicated man, but knowing why wouldn't have made any difference to the horror he felt as the man pawed at the terrified, crying girl. Snape forced himself out of Sera's head just as she tore her gaze away from him. He was relieved he wouldn't see that scene through to what must have been a horrid conclusion. He looked at his niece now with troubled eyes. She hadn't shared her suspicions about her male teacher, and Snape knew that there was absolutely no way she would share the details about this other, much more serious crime.

"I kind of flipped out," Sera finally said. "I don't know why." This was a lie, and they both knew it, but Snape couldn't and wouldn't press her on that point. "I hit him," she confessed. "Punched him in the nose." She said this in such a way that Snape knew it had felt good to hit the man, and he could find no blame for her – he'd like to take a swing at the man himself. "Mr. Markham was actually decent about it," she went on. "Said he . . . understood . . . because of the grief and everything I was going through. But the school board said they couldn't have students going around punching teachers without some sort of consequence, so they suspended me for the rest of the year."

Snape was willing to leave it there. Had she been his child and had he not known the reasons for what she'd done, he would have felt compelled to provide her with additional punishment at home for such an action. As it was . . . "Has your school work suffered as a result?"

"No. They provided me with a tutor, but I was pretty far ahead anyway, so they let me take the end of the year exams, and I just . . . finished early."

"And you've received a report regarding your grades?"

"Yes."

"And . . ." Snape prompted.

"All A's," Sera told him.

"Only acceptable?" Snape asked before he could stop himself. He'd expected more.

"What do you mean?" she asked, offended. "A is the best you can do!"

"I apologize. I am unfamiliar with the grading system here. At Hogwarts, an A is merely Acceptable. And the subjects you were taking?"

Sera ran through her schedule in her head. "Spanish, European History, Calculus, English Literature, and Honors Chemistry."

Snape nodded, satisfied. She'd seemed a bright enough girl and certainly her grades and her course load suggested she wasn't lacking in the brains department.

"So . . . are we done here?" she asked.

"Not yet. How do you plan on spending your summer?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how do you intend to occupy yourself over the next few weeks?"

"I hadn't thought too much about it. Just hang out, I guess," she said with a shrug.

"That does not sound very productive," Snape said, dismayed.

"I'm sixteen," she pointed out. "I'm not supposed to be productive."

"I would be happy to design a course of study for you, to keep you engaged over the summer and prepare you for next year."

Sera looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Are you crazy?!"

"I don't believe so, no."

"Well, that sounds really tempting," she said sarcastically, "but I think I'll pass on that."

"I think it would be beneficial for you. In fact, I insist that you occupy yourself constructively."

Sera stared at him, incredulous. "I don't think so."

"You will do as you are told," Snape told her, confident she would.

"And _you _can go to hell," she shot back.

In his room, Harry, his knees sore from kneeling at the keyhole, raised his eyebrows, wondering about the way Sera was going about trying to get Snape to like her. But he did have to give her a point for her courage.

Snape and Sera stared at each other, one defiant, the other surprised but determined.

Sera spoke first. "I'll agree on one condition. I get to do whatever it is you want me to do downstairs. With you and Harry."

Harry had to give Sera a point for that one, too. She'd asked for just about the only thing that Snape couldn't give her.

"That would be . . . impossible," Snape was forced to concede.

"Thought so," Sera said with a smirk that must have been passed down through the Snape genes. "We're done now, I assume." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes, we're done," Snape agreed, accepting defeat. "But Miss Mallory," he said, as she started to rise. "If there's ever anything you wish to . . . discuss, please don't hesitate to come to me." He made this offer wondering what he would do if she ever _did _come to him with the problems he now knew she had. He felt wholly inadequate to deal with them.

The way she said "Okay" made it perfectly plain that he'd never have to worry about that.

##########

Later that evening, after they'd been left alone, Harry asked, "Do you think that was the best way to get on your uncle's good side? Telling him to go to hell?"

"You were listening?" she asked. She thought she should probably be angry about that but found she was not.

Harry shrugged his guilt. Sera set aside her diary, where she'd been recording the conversation with her uncle. "Do you think it would have been better to pretend to be someone I'm not, just to curry favor? How is that going to help in the long run? He either likes me the way I am, or he doesn't. I'm not going to change for anyone."

"And I wouldn't want you to," Harry assured her. "I kind of like you just the way you are."

Sera smiled at him and returned to her writing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. One of the characters is just under 16 in the beginning. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

4 _Truth_

Harry was sitting at the breakfast table one Saturday morning two weeks into his stay here. He was dressed and waiting for Sera to finish up a few household chores before they decided what to do with their day. Harry suspected it would include a venture into the woods and perhaps some basketball, since most days did. Maybe they'd take a swim in the lake, or Sera would take him out in the rowboat again, and they'd take the fishing poles and pretend they knew how to fish. He'd swept the kitchen and dining room and offered to help her with her remaining chores, but she'd declined, and now he waited, impatient for her to appear. When she did, he was surprised when she bolted through the kitchen and out the door, muttering wildly, "It can't be! I must be going crazy!"

"Serafina!" he called, jumping to his feet and running after her. He didn't catch up to her, though, until they were beside the lake. She was breathing fast and pacing in circles, wringing her hands. She hadn't even dressed yet and was still wearing the t-shirt and shorts she wore as pajamas.

He approached her cautiously. "You run amazingly fast. Serafina? What's going on?"

She jumped back at the sound of his voice and backed away from him, her arms stretched in front of her, palms up, to stop him from getting closer. "Don't come near me!"

He stayed where he was, but he put his own hands up in a mirror of her gesture, beseeching her wordlessly to stop. What had happened?! "What's wrong?"

"I saw . . . But I couldn't have! My uncle . . . What _are _you two?!" she cried.

The queasy feeling in the pit of Harry's stomach now had nothing to do with the smile of a pretty girl. "What did you see?" he asked quietly, his brain frantically trying to remember what he'd been doing just before she'd freaked out. He'd just been sitting there, he was sure, waiting for her. He didn't have his wand and hadn't even been attempting anything magical.

Serafina was breathing in large gasps, trying to get her breath back. "I saw . . . I went down in the basement to do some laundry. I noticed the door to Uncle's room was open. I've never seen it open before. He keeps it locked, you know, when he's not in there."

Harry nodded. He knew this, and he knew why. He could see where this was going, and he wished he had Hermione's time turner so that he could take them back and prevent her from seeing what she'd apparently seen.

"So I snuck over and looked in 'cause I was curious, you know?" Her eyes widened. "Harry! The room is huge! Much bigger than it should be! There's no way the basement could hold a room that big! It goes on for miles! And it's like eight stories tall! But you know this! You've been in there! What is going on?!"

Harry let out the breath he'd been holding. She was exaggerating, just a little, but she was certainly right. The room Snape had made for himself was at least three times as large as the basement itself. What now? Should he tell her the truth? What would Snape do to him then? Should he suggest she speak with her uncle? What would Snape do to _her _then? Should he tell her it was her imagination, a trick of the lighting, a mirage?

He had just about decided to go with the latter option, to at least try to convince her that she hadn't seen what she'd seen and to warn Snape that he had to fix this, when she removed that option from the table.

"And that's not the worst of it," she said, and here is where the tears started. "While I was watching, Uncle . . . pointed at something across the room, and it . . . came to him. Just like floated across the room into his hand. Am I losing my mind, Harry?"

"Did Snape see you?" Harry needed to know. "Did he see you looking?"

"I don't think so," she said, "but I didn't stick around. I had to get out of there, had to get away from . . ." She looked as though she was heading back into hysterics.

"Okay," Harry said soothingly. "It's okay. Can we sit?"

She stared at him, no longer sure she could trust him, no longer sure even what he was.

He saw the mistrust in her eyes. "It's me, Sera. I'm not going to hurt you. Please. Sit down. I'll explain everything."

She sat carefully on the stump, and he sat next to her and took her hand. "What I'm about to tell you may be hard to understand, and I'll answer any questions that I can. This is going to change everything here, but I'm not sure exactly how. Ready?" he asked. When she nodded, he said, "Your uncle is a wizard."

He let that sit there for a moment. She waited, as though there should be more. A wizard? Like the Wizard of Oz? Did he teach Munchkins at this school? That thought struck her as absurdly funny for some reason, and she had to fight the urge to laugh. This was certainly not funny.

"Did you hear me?" Harry asked. "I said, your uncle is a wizard."

"I heard you," she said, choking on a laugh that could not be held back. "I'm just trying to decide whether to laugh or cry or simply go insane. A wizard?"

Harry nodded.

"A wizard?" she repeated.

Harry couldn't help it. He smiled, in spite of the situation. "Yes," he said simply.

"And what, exactly, _is _a wizard?"

"Someone who can do magic," Harry explained.

"You mean, like a witch?"

"Well, yes, except that he's not a girl," Harry clarified patiently.

"And you knew about this?"

Harry nodded.

"Because he told you?"

"Well, not in so many words. I just knew."

"How?"

"Because he teaches at the school."

Harry could see her making the connections now. She was almost there.

"He teaches at the school you go to?" she asked.

"Yes."

"So the school you go to is . . . is for wizards?"

"And for witches."

"Girls?"

Harry nodded, smiling again.

"So you're . . . you're a . . ."

"A wizard," Harry finished helpfully, nodding confirmation.

"You're a wizard?" Her eyes widened, and she pulled her hand away and slowly got to her feet. "Why are you here?" she asked, backing away until she was stopped by a tree at her back.

"I came here with your uncle. Some things have happened recently that made it important that I get away for a while." Harry remained seated, giving her time to come to terms with all he was telling her. He could tell she was frightened, and he didn't want to make it worse by crowding her. "Your uncle needed to come here to see to you, so I came along."

"Why did you need to get away?"

"That's a really long story," Harry said. He really didn't want to get into it now. She was afraid enough of him as it was. He didn't want to tell her about dark lords and death eaters and killing curses. Those things weren't supposed to exist here.

"Do you have some place else you need to be?" she asked pointedly, crossing her arms in front of her chest, her back still against the tree.

Harry sighed in resignation. All right. If she wanted to do this now, they'd do it now.

"Would you sit, please? I'd never hurt you, Sera. You must know that. And it is a rather long story."

She did know that he wouldn't hurt her, but she was scared of what he was telling her. She gathered up her courage and sat beside him again on the stump.

And so he told her.

"I'll start at the beginning. On my eleventh birthday, I discovered I was a wizard. Prior to that, I'd had no idea. A couple of times, weird things had happened, but I didn't know I had caused them, and I certainly had no reason to think I was anything out of the ordinary."

"How did you find out?" she asked.

"I started getting letters. Uncle Vernon wouldn't let me open them, but they just kept coming. Finally, he took us all away, just to keep me from seeing the letters. Hagrid found us and told me what I was. He works at the school. The letters were from Hogwarts telling me that I'd been accepted there. He told me a little bit about my parents and about Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts. That's your school?"

Harry nodded. "Hagrid took me shopping for my books and the stuff I'd need, and a month later, I went off to school. It was a little scary, but it felt like . . . home. I met my two best friends on the train to school that first day. I felt so naive. I hadn't even known magic existed before that summer, and here I was at a school for wizards. The classes were hard, but I felt like I belonged there. I'd never really felt like I'd belonged anywhere, you know?"

Sera nodded. She understood that feeling.

"I joined the quidditch team that first year and discovered that I was really good at flying."

"Hold on," Sera interrupted. "Quidditch?"

"It's a sport for wizards and witches. It's played on broomsticks. There are goals that you have to throw a ball through, and bewitched balls that try to knock you off your broom, and a little golden ball with wings called a snitch. The snitch is my responsibility. I'm a seeker. It's my job to find the snitch and catch it, which is very hard because it's small, like this." Harry showed her with his hand just how small the snitch was. "And it's very fast. But I'm good at it. It's really the first thing I've ever been good at.

"So things were going really well. My friends and I helped to stop a bad wizard from taking something that he could have used for evil purposes. And then I went back to the Dursleys for the summer, which was really depressing, but I got through it. Then, second year, when I returned to school, some bad stuff started happening. It's really hard to explain, but the same bad wizard had been destroyed years before, but he was trying to make a comeback. He'd hidden something in a secret chamber at school, and we helped to find it and destroy it."

Harry could tell from the confusion in Sera's eyes that he was doing a bad job of explaining most of this, but they didn't have a week for him to fill in all of the details, so he was skimming over what he thought was important. He plunged on.

"Then, in my third year, I learned that I had a godfather and that he might have been responsible for the deaths of my parents and that he had escaped prison to come and find me and kill me. It turned out that he wasn't responsible for my parents' deaths and that he'd broken out of prison to track down the person who was. He found him at Hogwarts, but he ended up getting away, and my godfather, Sirius, had to escape because there was no way to prove that he was innocent once Wormtail got away."

"Wormtail?" Sera repeated.

"Yes. That was a nickname." Explanations as to why he was called that could certainly wait until later. "During my fourth year, Hogwarts hosted the triwizard championship. Kids from two other schools came to Hogwarts, and one student from each school was supposed to be chosen to compete in the tournament. Only my name was chosen in addition to Cedric Diggory, who was supposed to be the Hogwarts champion. Someone had put my name into the competition. They told me I had to compete, even though I didn't want to and was supposed to be seventeen before I could enter. We had to compete at three different tasks. The first one was to get an egg away from a dragon . . ."

"A dragon?" Sera repeated, disbelief evident in her voice and on her face.

"Yes. A dragon. Scary creatures, dragons. The second task was to rescue something from the bottom of the lake, and the third was a maze. Whoever made it to the center of the maze first would find the Tri-Wizard cup, and they'd be the champion."

"And what did you win?"

"Eternal glory, the cup, and one thousand galleons."

"Galleons?"

"Wizard money. Never mind that now. Cedric and I helped each other and got to the center of the maze at the same time. We decided that we'd take the cup together, that we'd both be champions. But as soon as we grabbed it, we were . . . transported out of the maze and into a graveyard."

"Transported?" Sera asked. She was beginning to feel like an echo.

"Yes. The cup was a portkey, which is a magical object used to transport a group of people from one place to another. It had been bewitched by the same person who put my name into the competition, at the instruction of the evil wizard everyone thought had died."

"Wait a minute," she stopped him. "Does this guy have a name? So we don't have to keep referring to him as 'the evil wizard'?"

"Lord Voldemort."

Sera was one of the few people besides Dumbledore who hadn't flinched when Harry said that name. Of course, she had her reasons.

"Okay then." She nodded, satisfied. "Was he really a lord?"

"No. He just called himself that. Anyway, Lord Voldemort wanted me at the graveyard so that he could complete the ritual to come back to his human form. It was purely a mistake that Cedric got brought along. He had Cedric killed. He trapped me and used blood from my arm to make a potion that gave him back a human form. He was going to kill me then, but I managed to escape by grabbing the portkey and traveling back to school.

"I knew that Voldemort was back, but no one in a position of authority wanted to hear it because they were so afraid. They tried to make people think I was crazy or just looking for attention. They said the same things about Dumbledore, the headmaster at Hogwarts, who is the greatest wizard in the world and the only one Voldemort was ever afraid of. Dumbledore brought back together the Order of the Phoenix, which he had created the first time Voldemort was trying to seek power, to fight him again. During one of the battles, my godfather was killed. I was having a hard time dealing with all of that, and that's why it was decided that I should get away for a while."

Sera stared at him for a moment. She'd been willing to believe him when he'd said he was a wizard, that he could perform magic like pulling rabbits out of hats and escaping from a locked box at the bottom of a swimming pool, but then he'd come out with this fantastic story about dragons and broomsticks and evil people transporting innocent victims into graveyards. It was all too fantastic to be true. Wasn't it?

"Why you?" she finally asked.

"Why me what?" he asked.

"Why did this lord dude target you?"

Harry had to smile at hearing Voldemort referred to as a "dude".

"Well, that goes back to my parents and how they died. When I was a year old, Voldemort killed them and tried to kill me, too. My mother died trying to protect me, and that act of sacrifice gave me some kind of protection that no one had anticipated. When he tried to kill me, Voldemort's spell rebounded on him and nearly destroyed him. That's how I got this," Harry said, fingering his scar. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth, but Snape threatened me with bodily harm if I told you any of this stuff."

"But that doesn't really explain why he killed your parents and tried to kill you."

"Before I was born, a prophecy was made about Voldemort and me that said that one of us must kill the other. That's why he wants to kill me. I just found out about that recently, on the day Sirius died."

"So there's a really bad wizard out there, this Voldemort, that wants to kill you still? Based on this prophecy?"

"Yes. That's another reason I came here with your uncle. Because no one would think to look for me here."

"And why does my uncle dislike you so?" Because it was obvious he did. She didn't have any idea if this had anything to do with the story he was telling her, but she had been curious about it for a while.

"Because I look like my father."

Sera looked at him. That wasn't an answer.

Harry wasn't very proud of this part, and he looked down at his hands while he told this bit. "Your uncle and my father went to school together. My father was . . . somewhat of a bully when it came to your uncle. He picked on him. And, understandably I guess, Snape resented it. And since I look so much like my dad, I guess it just reminds him of that time when he felt so helpless. But I know what it's like to be bullied, and I . . . well, I just understand how he feels."

When he finished, he looked up. He'd told her the basics anyway of everything there was to tell, and he wondered what she thought now. "It's getting late," he said when she didn't speak. "Maybe we should head back."

He stood up and offered her his hand. She hesitated, but then slipped her own into his. "This is all so very unreal," she said as they started back along the path. "It seems like something you'd read in a book, a very long book. Or maybe see in a movie. Or a series of movies. But you're telling me that there are witches and wizards in England and that some of them are really bad. And they can do magic. And there are schools and whole communities of people like that. And that they look just as normal as you and me, but they're really not. I just don't know if I can believe it all. Are you sure you're not making it all up?"

"Why would I make something like this up? And you saw the basement," Harry pointed out.

"And the floating thing," she remembered. It seemed as though that had happened weeks ago now.

They walked quietly for a time, Sera grappling with what she had perceived as reality until today, Harry unwilling to interrupt her thoughts.

When they reached the turn that would reveal the house to them, Sera pulled her hand from his. "I've decided that I don't believe you, Harry Potter. I don't know how to explain what I saw today, and I don't know why you would make up a story like this, but I just don't believe that it could be true. There must be another explanation for what I saw."

Harry was stunned. Hours ago, he would have given anything not to have to bring this part of his world to her. But now that he'd told her everything, it was suddenly urgent that she believe him.

"But you've got to believe it!" he spluttered. "It's the truth!"

"I don't think I can. It's just too fantastic. Dragons. And flying broomsticks. And portals, or whatever you called them. I suppose you have werewolves and vampires in your world, too?" she asked rhetorically, resuming her walk to the house, this time two steps ahead of him.

Harry nodded, but she didn't see him. What now? he wondered. Maybe he had to show her, make her understand, make her believe. When they entered the kitchen, Harry said, "Wait here."

He ran to his room, retrieved his wand, and returned to her. He took a butter knife from the drawer, pointed his wand at it, and said, "Orchideous."

From the end of the knife sprouted blue and pink flowers, and Harry handed them to her. Sera's mouth dropped open.

From behind him, Harry heard a voice, barely controlling its fury, say, "Have you gone completely mad?"

Harry closed his eyes briefly, gathering courage, then slowly turned to face Snape. Before he could say a word, Snape was on him, grabbing his arm and forcing him up against the wall. "I told you what would happen! You've flouted the rules for the very last time, Potter! Have you any idea of the consequences of performing magic in front of unsuspecting Muggles? If Dumbledore doesn't expel you, finally, for this, I may just have to see to your punishment myself!"

"Stop, Uncle!" Sera cried, frightened of what Snape might do to Harry.

"Be quiet!" Snape snapped at her, not even bothering to look her way. He finally had Potter right where he wanted him. He was going to see to it that the boy didn't slither his way out of the just punishment for this crime. His anger blinded him to anything else.

"I will _not _be quiet!" Sera shouted. "Harry, tell him!"

"Why?" Harry spit, his fear at the look in Snape's eyes driving his adrenalin through the ceiling. "He won't listen to me. He never does! He made up his mind about me long before I was even born!"

Snape grabbed hold of Harry even tighter, prepared to shake some sense into this boy if it was the last thing he did.

"It wasn't him!" Sera screamed, crying and pounding her fists on Snape's arm, trying to make him let go of Harry. "It wasn't him that told me! It was you!"

That got through to Snape, and he looked down at Harry. "You left the door open. She saw you," Harry told him quietly.

Snape let go of Harry, and Harry rubbed his arm where Snape had been holding him in a vise-like grip. He'd have bruises tomorrow, for sure.

"I saw you," Sera confirmed, gulping for air. "I saw your workshop. I saw you . . ." she looked to Harry for the correct way to describe what she saw.

"She saw you summon something," Harry said, still watching Snape warily and rubbing his arm, pressing himself hard against the wall to get as far away from Snape as possible, wishing Snape would back away.

"I . . . I must apologize, then, Potter, for jumping to conclusions," Snape said, his eyes failing to meet Harry's, and he finally took a step backward. "Miss Mallory, I'll speak with you in the basement. Alone."

"No. I want Harry present." How did she know he wasn't going to make her simply disappear or turn her into a toad if he got her alone down there?

"Suit yourself," Snape said, looking from one of them to the other, wondering if there was more here than met the eye. "Shall we sit?"

Serafina went first. Harry, unable to quell completely the fear Snape's behavior had occasioned, stayed pressed against the wall until Snape had proceeded him into the living room, unwilling to turn his back on him.

After they were seated, Snape asked, "What has he told you?"

"He . . . he told me you were a wizard. And that he's a wizard. And that he met you at a school for wizards and witches. And that there are lots of wizards and witches running around merry old England, some of them good, some of them not so much."

"That is correct," Snape said, with a slight nod of his head. "Though there are witches and wizards everywhere, not just in England."

"Here, too?" she asked, her voice squeaking.

"Yes. You must understand, though, Miss Mallory, that secrecy is of the utmost importance. You cannot tell anyone what you know. It could be . . . disastrous. For all of us."

"Oh, I won't," she assured him, meaning it. "Who would believe me? I didn't really believe it myself, even after what I'd seen. That's why Harry . . . did that thing with the flowers."

"Yes, well, that wasn't perhaps the most advisable thing to do, under the circumstances," Snape offered with a scowl in Harry's direction.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Snape eyed her, wary, then nodded.

"Was my mother a witch?"

"Your mother . . . your mother should have been. For reasons that no one knows, she did not possess any magical abilities. That happens occasionally in wizarding families. Just as Muggle families can, from time to time, produce offspring who _have _these abilities. No one knows why."

"So my mother was just a . . . regular person?"

Snape nodded. "Yes. We call non-magical people 'Muggles'". He hoped she didn't get into this any deeper, forcing him to reveal how their mother had treated Sacilia when it had become evident what she was.

But Sera was heading in a different direction. "Is it possible for that type of thing to skip a generation?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, is it possible that I'm a . . . that _I'm _a witch?"

Snape studied her over his long nose. He didn't know the answer to this question. Perhaps there had been studies performed, but if so, he'd never read them. "I don't know," he admitted. "But if you were, you would have noticed magical ability long before now. The ability to perform magic begins to show itself by around the time one starts school. By age eleven, the ability is pronounced enough to necessitate training, which is where Hogwarts comes in."

"So I'm not? A witch, I mean."

"It would appear not."

"Oh." Serafina was disappointed. Maybe if she'd shared this connection with her uncle, he would have felt more compelled to stay here with her, or at least take her with him when he returned to his home. She'd just given him one more reason to turn his back on her.

Harry knew what she was thinking and feeling, but he remained quietly sitting in the corner, trying to be forgotten. He had some questions of his own, though, and since Snape appeared to be in an information-sharing mood, perhaps now was the time to broach them. He waited, to see if Serafina had any more questions, and when she didn't speak, he jumped into the silence.

"You said there are wizards and witches here as well. Do they have some sort of governing body, like our Ministry of Magic?"

Snape nodded. "They do. It is with their approval and permission that we are here, although they do not know _all _of our circumstances." Harry understood that this meant they did not know that they were playing host to The Boy Who Lived.

"So before, when I did that spell . . . am I going to get into trouble?"

Snape sighed. Always worried about himself, this one. "They allow their young wizards and witches to perform magic at home beginning at age fifteen, as well as at school. If they knew that you did it, they wouldn't care. Which is not to say that you are free to use magic in the community at large, should you venture into it. I trust that is understood."

Harry nodded, though Snape's back was to him and he could not see this gesture. They seemed to communicate a little better when they weren't looking at one another. Harry guessed that had something to do with the fact that he looked so much like his father. "And when I was doing spells as part of my school work, they didn't care about that, because they don't have the same restriction on under-age magic that we do," he guessed.

"That is correct."

"Are there any of us, close by?"

"I didn't inquire." It hadn't been his intention to come here and become part of a community of wizards and witches. He had hoped to stay here quietly during the summer months and figure out what to do with his niece. He hoped that was still possible. But another thought did occur to him. "It occurs to me, Miss Mallory, now that you know the truth, there is no reason you cannot join us in the basement classroom. Doing your own summer course work."

Sera's shoulders fell. Finally, her bluff had been called. Now she'd have to spend her summer doing school work. How sucky was that?

"If you have no further questions, Miss Mallory," Snape continued. "I suggest that we move forward from here as best we can. I don't know how much Potter told you about why he accompanied me, but he is here to get caught up on neglected school work himself and to get him away from those who would wish him harm. I have my own work to do here. Life will be . . . smoother if we all focus on our respective responsibilities."

Serafina nodded sadly. Apparently, no part of why he'd come here actually had anything to do with her. She was simply a convenient place for the two of them to spend a few weeks away from school. "Okay. Fine then. I'll start lunch."

She jumped to her feet and went quickly into the kitchen.

"Git," Harry muttered under his breath. Couldn't Snape see how much he had just hurt her?

"I'll be in the basement," Snape announced, and he stood and moved out of the room.

Harry waited until Sera had gathered and started to wash vegetables. He took a carrot from her hand and began to wash it himself. She wiped her hands on a towel and looked at him, tears threatening behind her large dark eyes. What he wouldn't give to take away the pain he saw there!

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

"Sure," she said bitterly. "Why wouldn't I be, after that moving declaration of love from the only relative I have left in this world?"

"Don't give up on him yet," Harry said. "He's a hard case. No one knows that more than I do. But I think, deep down, there's a decent person just waiting for the chance to make the right decision for once in his life."

"Do you really think so?"

Harry didn't, but he couldn't destroy the hope that had sprung into her eyes at his words. "I do," he said. He reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek. "Don't give up hope."

She smiled at him through her tears and set to work.

##########

After supper and after Snape had retired to his basement office, Harry pulled Sera out of the house and down to their favorite spot. They walked without talking, each busy with their own thoughts, Sera sorting out all that she had learned and Harry wondering how the revelation would change them. The evening was warm and sultry, as nights could be in this part of the world in late June. When they arrived at the lake and seated themselves in their customary spot, Harry put an arm around Serafina and pulled her close. She slid down so that she lay with her head in his lap, her eyes closed, and Harry removed her cap and brushed back the hair from her forehead.

"This doesn't change anything between us, you know," he told her.

She looked up and him, but didn't speak.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.

"I'm not afraid of _you_. I'm a little afraid of what you are," she confessed.

"I can control what I am, Sera. It's not like I've got magic shooting out of my fingers at odd moments."

She closed her eyes again and sighed. Wizard or not, she couldn't help how she felt about him. The attraction had gotten stronger every day, the bond deepened with every moment they spent together. "Do you have a girlfriend . . . back there?"

Harry thought of Cho Chang. He'd thought he loved Cho, but he knew now that what he'd felt for her had been a boy's infatuation with a pretty girl. The kiss he'd shared with her had been nice, but it would have been much nicer if she hadn't been crying, and it had never led to any deepening of his feelings. And he had found her ever so hard to talk to. Not like Sera, whom he'd felt like telling his life story to ten minutes after he'd met her, and whom he had poured his grief out on five minutes after that.

"No," he finally said. "There was a girl I liked, but I'm not sure I could have called her a girlfriend. We went on one date. I never felt for her anything like what I feel for you."

Sera sighed again, and a satisfied smile graced her lips. Harry admired her, drinking her in while she wasn't looking. Her breasts made the most pleasing mound in her tank top, and she curved in such a nice way down to her hips, her flat stomach showing just a bit between her shirt and the shorts she wore. Harry was suddenly possessed by the strongest desire to run his hands over her, and he curled them into fists to keep himself from doing just that.

He thought now was probably the best opportunity he was going to get for their first kiss, and he leaned forward slightly until his lips touched hers. He didn't press, simply touched her lips, until her eyes opened. They stared into one another's eyes, Harry seeking permission to increase contact. Sera reached a hand up to the back of his head and pulled him down so that his mouth smashed against hers, and the kiss quickly grew in intensity until it threatened to devour both of them.

They kissed this way for many minutes, their tongues dueling, until the need for air drove them apart. Both of them breathing as though they'd run a marathon, they stared in amazement at one another.

Slowly, Sera sat up, her eyes never leaving his. She leaned close and trailed kisses along his jaw line toward his ear. Harry arched his neck, allowing her better access, and her lips traced along his carotid artery, where she pressed her tongue to his pulse, pounding beneath her touch. When she reached his collarbone, she sank her teeth gently into the skin at the point where his neck met his shoulder, and Harry groaned softly, allowing his head to loll back. Sera's other hand caressed his opposite cheek until she turned his head toward her to seek his mouth once again. Harry's hand played with the bottom of her tank top, wanting to explore beneath but somehow holding back.

Another searing kiss followed, leaving them both breathless. Finally, Harry pulled away from her. "Sera, we should probably stop."

"Do you want to stop?" she asked.

"Hell, no," he gasped, trying valiantly not to look down at his lap and draw her attention there. The honesty of this statement was brutally apparent and making him flush in embarrassment. "But we can't . . ." He'd never felt this way before, like he wasn't in complete control of his emotions and his own body. He could see just what a short road it was between kissing her like he had been and laying her on the forest floor and taking her, right here, right now. It scared him a bit, this loss of control. If she touched him now, he wasn't sure he'd be able to resist her.

Sera sensed this and dropped her hands into her own lap. Keeping them there required a strength she hadn't known she possessed. "I'm sorry. I got a little carried away."

She wasn't far enough away for him to feel safe yet, but he said, "It's okay. I liked it." He looked down at her, and he couldn't help it. He had to taste her again. Her mouth tasted like every wonderful thing he'd ever eaten, all rolled into one. Sera curled her hands into fists to keep herself from touching him in places she'd never willingly touched another human being before. This time, when Harry broke away from her, he stood up and moved several feet away. "You frighten me," he said.

"_I_ frighten _you_? Which one of us has the ability to turn the other into an armadillo?"

Harry laughed a little too loudly, releasing some of the sexual tension he was feeling. "_You _just turned _me _into someone I don't recognize, someone who only wants one thing. And that's a little scary."

"But what if we want the same thing?" she reasoned.

Harry took a calming breath as he felt most of the remaining desire drain from his body. He didn't think he'd ever lose it completely, but he at least had it down to a manageable level. "I'm only fifteen, Sera. And you're just sixteen. I want to make sure we're both ready for this step before we take it. _If _we take it. I don't want to make love to you for the first time in the woods on the ground, like a couple of animals."

"And where exactly _do _you want to make love to me for the first time, Mr. Potter?" she asked, looking at him coyly from beneath her long lashes.

"I dunno," he admitted. "But if it happens, I want it to be special. Not like this."

Sera sighed. He was probably right – well, half right. This probably wasn't the time, although this was her favorite place on earth, and she couldn't imagine a better place for her first time with Harry. "You'll be sixteen soon," she said brightly and she stood up beside him, ready to head back to the house.

He smiled in acknowledgment and took her hand. "I think it might be a good idea if we didn't kiss again. I might not be able to stop myself next time."

"You mean, we can't do this?" She stepped into his personal space and leaned forward to kiss him. Though they were both making an effort to keep their hands by their sides, their bodies were pressed as tightly together as they could get, and Sera shivered when she felt his ardent erection respond to her proximity. He realized that their hands, still clutched together, were just below where her shorts ended, and if he let go her hand, he could slide a hand under her shorts, up over her firm round bottom . . . he stopped himself from finishing that thought, and after kissing her soundly, he pushed her away. "Bad girl," he chided.

She let go of his hand – she wasn't sure she could touch him right now and not throw herself onto him, drag him to the ground, and have her way with him. "Well, if you need a way to cool down, you could always think about Uncle catching us doing that," she said as they resumed walking again.

That was a chilling, sobering thought, indeed. "That would work," he said simply. And it had. He no longer felt like throwing Sera to the ground and pouncing on top of her like a feral dog.

"Oh! Speaking of Uncle and birthdays, do you know when his birthday is?"

"I have no idea," Harry said honestly, and even more honestly, he didn't care.

"Well, I think we should pick a date and just celebrate it. What should we get him?"

"I could disappear for a week," Harry offered. "That'd be bound to cheer him up."

"That's not very practical. I'd have to go with you. We can have a party and everything. We just have to figure out a really great gift," Sera persisted. "I want to get on his good side."

"He doesn't seem like the party and gift type, exactly. And I'm not sure he _has _a good side.

"Maybe I'll get him some new clothes. Something that's not black. I've never seen anyone wear black all the time like that. Is he some kind of Goth dude or what?"

"Goth dude," Harry said with an amused snort. "Yeah, that's Snape all right."

"Well, think about it. You know him better than I do."

"Unfortunately," Harry agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. One of the characters is just under 16 in the beginning. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

5 _Technology_

A present was not what Harry wanted to give Snape the following week, when he assigned research on the magical properties of imelda vine berries used in conjunction with the root of the padrigal plant.

True to his word, Snape had devised a course of study for Sera, and she joined them in the basement each day, torn between being happy about being included and being totally pissed off about having to do schoolwork in the middle of the summer. She spent much more time listening in on Harry's lessons, absorbing as much of what he was being taught as she could. Her favorite part was after lunch, when they worked on potions. Her own course work was finished for the day, but she found potions fascinating and longed to get her hands on all of the interesting things that Snape kept here and try her hand at mixing some of them together. She reckoned it was a lot like cooking – measuring and mixing – and she certainly had an affinity for that. But her uncle refused to let her touch anything, tolerating her presence only, so she sat quietly, watching and learning, sympathizing along with Harry when he messed up and celebrating his small and infrequent triumphs.

"I can't find that anywhere in here!" Harry said, frustrated, slamming his book shut. "He's given me an impossible assignment!"

"I've got an idea," Sera said. She got off the couch and went down the hall, beckoning him to follow her.

When she went into her bedroom, he stopped, unsure what she had in mind, and said, "I don't see how that's going to help."

Sera rolled her eyes at him. "Just get in here. We'll look it up on the internet."

"The what?"

Sera stared at him. No. There was just no way that someone his age, in the era that they lived in (even if he did live in England) could not know what the internet was. "Tell me you're joking!"

"Not joking. What are you talking about?"

She stared hard at him, trying to discern a telltale smirk that would give away that he was trying to play a joke on her. He simply stared back at her, confusion in his eyes.

"You're not joking!"

"Nope. I just said that."

"Holy cow! I didn't think this was possible. The internet. Never even heard of it?"

"Well, it does sound vaguely familiar. What is it?"

"Okay, tell me you know what a computer is."

"That I know. Cousin Dudley had one. I sometimes played games on it when he wasn't around."

"Phew!" Sera said, wiping imaginary sweat from her brow. "You're not a total moron. I was worried there for a minute."

"You sounded a bit like your uncle there, for a moment. Are you going to tell me what it is, or leave me in my ignorance?"

"Well, let me show you. It's easier than telling you." She crossed to her desk, where a computer sat. After turning the monitor on and clicking here and there, she turned to him and said, "Sit here," she said, patting her bed.

Harry looked at the bed for a moment, wondering if this was such a good idea, then sat down.

"This," she said, flourishing her hand at the computer's screen, "is the internet. Internet, meet Harry. Harry, internet."

Harry waved at the computer. "Can it see me?"

Sera slapped a hand dramatically to her forehead. "Holy cripes, I've got my work cut out for me! Of course it can't see you! It's the information superhighway. Anything you want to know, you can probably find on here. Let's say you wanted to know the names of the bones in your toes. Watch this." Sera typed into the computer "bones in the toes", then clicked enter. "Now wait. It's a dial-up, and I'm only connected at 24k bps, so you'll have to wait a bit, but we'll get there."

"I have no idea what you just said."

"Doesn't matter," she assured him. "Okay," She said a moment later. "See there are over two hundred thousand places on the internet where you can look for the names of the bones in the toes."

"That seems a bit impractical. That would be like looking at all of the books in the library. That would take forever."

"You don't have to look at them all. Look at this second one. It's an encyclopedia entry. We'll go here." She clicked on the link. "See, there are only three, the first metacarpal, the proximal phalanx, and the middle phalanx. Everything you want to know, right at your fingertips. Or toetips, as the case may be."

"Cool. And you think there might be something in here about imelda vine berries and the padrigal plant?"

"You'd be surprised what's out there, Harry, my boy. Let's see what we can find." She typed the search terms in, hit return, and they waited. "Well, looky here!" She exclaimed minutes later. "Someone's written a paper entitled, "The Effects of Mixing Imelda Vine Berries and Padrigal Plant."

"Let's see it!" Harry said excitedly.

Sera clicked on the link, and they waited while the page loaded. It was a little slow (it was dial-up after all), and while they waited, Harry stood behind Sera and massaged her shoulders and neck.

Finally, Sera looked up to see that the page had completely loaded. "Okay. This is by someone named . . .whoa, that's an odd one, Herm–ee–own," she sounded out. "Herm–ee–own Granger. Let me warn you that you can't always trust what you find here to be accurate."

"That's Hermione!" Harry said excitedly.

"You know him?"

"Her," Harry corrected. "Yes, I know her. She's one of my very best friends at school. And if she wrote it, I know it's right. She's a bloody genius!"

"Well, it's got to be her, don't you think? With a name like that?"

Harry nodded. "Let me see." He read through the paper, recognizing Hermione's distinctive writing style (he'd copied it enough over the years, after all) and learned that when one combined imelda vine berries with padrigal root, one was left with a red sludge-like potion that smelled of peppermint candy and left whoever inhaled it's fumes with no memory of the last two days. If one were mad enough to drink the mixture, potential effects included bowel symptoms that made Harry cringe when he read about them.

"Good old Hermione," Harry beamed when he'd finished reading. She'd once again saved his bacon.

"Would you like to write to her?"

"Could I?" Harry asked, amazed.

"Sure. She's got an e-mail address."

"What's an e-mail address?"

"Oh, God help me! This just gets worse and worse. It's like an owl," she explained. Harry had told her about owls. "Flying over the information superhighway I told you about. You type her a message and send it to her. When she reads it, she'll send one back to you."

"An owl, or an e-mail?" Harry asked, this time being purposely obtuse, a fact given away by the twinkle in his eyes.

"Shut up," Sera said.

"Can we do it now?"

Sera wiggled her eyebrows at him. "I thought you'd never ask, big boy."

"Sera! Show me how to send the mail!"

"All right, all right. Don't get your knickers in a knot. We go here," she said, clicking on Hermione's e-mail link, "Then we type a message to her. What do you want the subject to be?"

"How about, 'Hello, Hermione! It's me, Harry!'"

"Perhaps we should make sure that it's actually your friend before we tell her who you are."

"Won't she just know?"

"No. The e-mail will be from me. She doesn't know me from a hole in the ground."

"All right. Just say that we've read her paper on imelda berries and we wanted to thank her for the information. Then you could ask her . . ." Harry thought while Sera typed. What question would only the real Hermione Granger know the answer to? "I know! Ask her if she knows how many heads Fluffy has?"

"What?!"

"I'll tell you later. Just ask her!"

"All right, all right. I was wondering if you knew how many heads Fluffy has," Sera said as she typed along, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "Anything else?"

"No. Not until we know it's her."

"Okay. Send then," Sera said, clicking the magic button.

"So, is it her?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Let me explain something else to you. The message will arrive at her computer seconds after I send it to her. However, I can't control when she gets onto her computer and checks her e-mail. If she happens to be sitting there, using her computer, wherever she is right now, she may respond immediately. If she's not, well who knows how long it might take to get a response. You're just going to have to be patient."

Harry sighed dejectedly. He'd been so looking forward to talking with Hermione. But at least she'd given him the answer he needed to Snape's homework assignment. At least he had that.

##########

To get Harry's mind off the response he so desperately wanted from Hermione, Sera dragged him down to the lake and forced him to sit quietly next to her on the tree stump.

"What if Hermione – "

"Hush!" she interrupted. "You're disturbing my peace and quiet."

"But what if she –"

"Harry!

Harry huffed in frustration but quieted down. He scooted away from Sera so he could lay back on the stump, his head in her lap. Sera smoothed his hair down away from his forehead, and Harry closed his eyes, listening to the quiet and letting the magical peace of this place fill him.

"Look at the little snake!" Sera suddenly said.

Harry opened his eyes and sat up. Sera pointed to a small brown snake with a light stripe running down its back sunning itself on a nearby rock.

"I can talk to snakes," Harry told her.

"Yeah? So can I. Watch. Hi, Snake. See?" she teased.

Harry grinned at her. "But they actually _understand _me."

Sera looked at him skeptically, doubt obvious on her face. "Sure they do."

Harry shrugged, turned to the snake, and said something that sounded to Sera like, "Hesh a hassi."

The snake immediately lifted its head and looked at Harry, darting out its tongue as it did so.

Sera stared at Harry now. "What did you say to it?"

"I just said good morning. She said good morning back."

"How do you know it's a girl."

"By the long eyelashes and the painted fingernails," Harry deadpanned.

"Ask her if I can hold her."

Harry turned to the snake and relayed the question in that weird half-whispering, half-slurring language. Again the tongue darted out. "She said she'd rather you didn't, but if you promised to be careful, she'd tolerate it," he translated.

"I promise," Sera whispered.

When Harry relayed this to the snake, it slithered off the rock and over to Sera's feet. Sera extended her hand to the snake, which made its way onto her hand, curling up in her palm. Sera raised the snake so it was level with her face and looked into its eyes. The snake stared brightly back, then made its way up Sera's arm, across her shoulders and down the other arm until it coiled itself again in Sera's left hand.

"What's her name?" Sera asked.

"Anastasia," Harry told her after asking the snake and receiving an answer. "I told her your name and that you live in the house through the woods."

The snake raised her head to Sera and flicked its tongue out.

"What did she say?"

"She said that's enough."

Sera immediately lowered her hand to the ground, and the snake slithered off of it and away through the undergrowth, where she blended in so completely they lost sight of her right away. "Tell her thank you," Sera remembered, and Harry tossed this in the direction the snake had gone.

Sera turned large round eyes on Harry. "You really _can _talk to snakes!"

"Told ya," he said, grinning.

##########

That night at dinner, Sera said to her uncle, "Did you know Harry could talk to snakes?"

Snape turned his dark eyes on Harry, who squirmed uncomfortably, wishing Sera hadn't said anything. Snape's stare pinned him for a moment before he returned his eyes to his niece. "Yes, I knew Potter possessed this skill."

"Can you?" she asked.

"No. It is a fairly rare gift," Snape understated.

The phone rang then, which was an unusual enough occurrence in this house that they all jumped.

"I'll get it," Sera said, though no one else had made a move to get up. She got up and went into the living room to answer it.

"Must you use every opportunity to show off?" Snape asked, his voice low and dripping with disdain.

Harry shrugged. "I like that when I tell her things like that, she doesn't look at me like I'm possessed by the devil," he admitted. "When I told her about Voldemort, she didn't even flinch at his name. Like you just did!" Harry accused.

"She has her reasons now, doesn't she?" Snape pointed out.

"Of course she does," Harry agreed. "But it's nice to be only magical to someone, not evilly magical," Harry tried again, sure he was explaining himself badly. Plus, he had to admit to himself that he _had _been showing off, just a bit, for Sera.

Snape huffed in disgust as Sera returned to the table. "My social worker," she explained as she sat down. "Just checking in again. So where were we? Oh, the snake. Anyway, Harry asked the snake if I could hold it, and she said yes!"

"You held the snake?" Snape inquired, alarmed.

"It was just a common garter snake. There are no poisonous snakes here. It gets too cold in the winter. Although they do bite. I used to pick them up all the time. My grandmother was terrified of them. If she saw one, she'd scream and attack it with whatever she happened to be holding. If I could get there in time, I'd pick them up and take them away to safety. One day, I picked one up, and it bit me right here." She indicated the index finger on her left hand. "It left four little fang holes that actually bled! Pissed me off, since I was trying to save the little ingrate's life, so I said 'effing snake' and flung it up into the air. I thought it was going to get caught in the tree branches, but it came back down with a thump! I told it it was on its own then." A shadow of remorse flitted across her face. "I hope that wasn't Anastasia's father or something."

"Anastasia?" Snape inquired.

"The snake Harry introduced me to today," Sera explained.

Snape rolled his eyes, either at Sera's story or at Harry's inability to keep this particular trait to himself, or perhaps both.

##########

It was over twenty-four hours before a response from Hermione arrived. Harry's insistence that Sera check her e-mail every thirty minutes during their waking hours was beginning to get on her nerves.

"Here it is!" she said. "We've got a message from Hermione."

"What did she say?" Harry asked, crowding beside Sera in front of the screen.

They read together. "Hello. Thank you for your kind words about my paper. Fluffy has three heads. Who are you?!"

"It's her! It's her!" Harry shouted.

"Shhhh! Do you want Uncle to hear you? We can write right back to her. Maybe she's still at her computer. What do you want to say?"

"Okay. Say, 'It's me, Harry.'" Sera started to type while he dictated. "'We found your paper on the internet (bloody useful thing, that – did you know about it?), and I couldn't believe it when I saw who had written it. How are you?' That'll do for now, I guess."

Sera sent the message, and they waited. Four minutes later, they had a response. "Harry! Where are you?! You disappeared before the end of term, and no one would tell us where you went. Dumbledore put the story out that you'd gone home early. He told Ron and me that you were gone, but he wouldn't tell us where. Said it was for our own protection as well as yours, but we couldn't help but worry. Are you all right?"

"Say this. 'I probably shouldn't tell you where I am. Dumbledore may be right. But I am safe, and I'm actually having a really wonderful summer.'" He smiled down at Sera. "'Despite who I'm with. You won't believe it – Dumbledore sent me away with Snape! He's been getting me caught up on the school work I missed last term, and he's going to teach me how to disapparate! He's the same old Snape, but he's bearable because we're not alone here. Snape came here to meet his niece (she's typing this, since I can't type a bit), and she's' . . ." Here Harry hesitated, unsure how much to say, what words to use. He smiled at Sera again. "'And she's become a great friend.' Don't want to put anything x-rated on this internet."

Sera sighed. "Harry, my love, you are so naive. Anything else?"

"Yeah, tell her I was surprised that she put her paper out on the internet where anyone could see it. Isn't she afraid that Muggles will read it? Then you can send it."

Sera did, and they waited again.

"Snape, huh? I'm so sorry, Harry. But I'm glad you've made a new friend. (I hope she's not too much like her uncle!) What is her name? Learning to disapparate?! I am _so _jealous! Although I guess we'll all be learning that soon enough. Most Muggles know about the internet, Harry, but very few people in the wizarding world do. Some of us Muggleborns use it to keep in touch over the holidays and share information. And if a Muggle happened upon my paper, they'd probably read it and think I was a nutter. There are plenty of _those _on the internet, so no worries. I certainly wouldn't go telling Snape about it. I'm sure none of the professors know, and we should probably keep it that way. I can't believe I'm really talking to you! I thought I wouldn't hear from you until term started up again. I miss you."

"She misses you," Sera pointed out.

"Mmm. That's what she said," Harry agreed.

"She's your friend?"

"One of my _best _friends. Her and Ron."

"_Just _a friend?"

"Well, I don't do this with her, if that's what you mean," Harry said, leaning in to thoroughly kiss her.

Sera sighed happily. "In that case, I guess I'll let you talk with her again. 'Hi, Hermione, my name is Serafina, but everyone calls me Sera. And no, I'm not a bit like my uncle, although we have the same color hair and eyes. Just so you know, I'm a Muggle, but I know all about Harry's . . . shall we say abilities. Maybe he'll tell you the story of how I found out some time. He says he misses you, too. I guess I'd better teach him to type so I won't have to be his personal secretary.'"

"Good luck with that," Hermione wrote back. "I have to go. Hugs and kisses to you both. I hope to meet you soon, Sera. And, Harry, take care of yourself. Are you sleeping all right? Getting enough to eat?"

"Sera hopes to meet you some day, too, Hermione. I sleep very well, thanks. The nightmares have decreased significantly. Must be the fresh air. Sera is a really good cook, and I think I've gained a stone! Probably you won't even recognize me when you see me. Can we talk again some time?"

"Of course we can. Talk to you soon!"

"Bye, Hermione," Harry said, a little sadly. Talking with her had made him a little home sick. He shook his head to clear away these thoughts. "I have to go finish my assignment. I bet Snape will be surprised that I found the answer to his question!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. One of the characters is just under 16 in the beginning. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

6 _Imagination_

Snape _was _surprised. He thought he'd given Harry a question that was impossible to answer without a reference library. If he didn't know better, he'd think Granger was somehow involved. She seemed to feed both Potter and Weasley with her seemingly inexhaustible supply of the knowledge of all things magic. But that was impossible, wasn't it?

"Just out of curiosity, where did you find this information?" he asked.

"I read it somewhere," Harry said truthfully. "Must have remembered it," he added, not so truthfully.

"Right." Moving on. "You'll be pleased to know that you have finished your work in charms and transfiguration. Although you will be using both as we move forward with our lessons in defense against the dark arts." He handed Harry a hat.

"What's this, Professor?"

"This is an imaginarius. It has been bewitched, by me. Once you put it on your head, you will see and hear only what I want you to see and hear."

"And what, exactly, am I going to see and hear, sir?" Harry asked, turning the hat over suspiciously in his hands, examining it. It was triangular in shape, not unlike the sorting hat in color, and was made of a material Harry had never felt before. It was shimmery and – almost alive feeling in his hands, and he shuddered involuntarily.

"You will see a maze before you, a series of rooms, if you will. Once you enter the maze, you will have to complete a series of tasks in order to exit safely from the other side. You will have your wand and nothing else. You can make it safely to the other side if you keep your wits about you and remember everything you have learned here this summer and everything that you already knew. Assuming, of course, that you knew anything before you got here. If you wish to start a particular task over, you need simply say, 'Return'. Once a task has been completed, you cannot start it again."

"A maze, eh?" Harry asked, remembering the last maze he'd entered.

"It will not be like that maze, Potter. There is no eternal glory attached to making it through this maze."

"And no portkeys, I hope," Harry pointed out.

Snape ignored him. "You will, hopefully, learn to react and think quickly in situations where your life may depend upon it."

"And will it, sir?" Harry asked. "_Will _my life depend on it?"

"Everything you see and hear will exist only in your imagination. It will seem perfectly real, though, and what you do in response to what you see will most certainly affect unfolding events."

"Cool!" Serafina said from her spot near the wall. "It's just like a virtual reality video game!"

Snape and Harry turned to stare at her, neither of them understanding what she'd just said, then looked back at each other.

"What if I don't make it through? Will I be stuck in my imagination forever?"

"If you have the strength to discipline your mind, you will not have any trouble. However, if, in a moment of . . . weakness, you find yourself unable to continue, simply say, 'I surrender', and I will . . . rescue you." Snape's smirk told Harry that the man thought this outcome all too likely.

Harry heard the taunt and the challenge in Snape's words, and he knew he'd have to be an inch from imaginary death before he'd admit defeat.

Snape turned to Sera. "Miss Mallory, you may wish to leave the room. What you see and hear may be somewhat . . . disturbing to you."

"I'm not going anywhere," Sera said firmly. "This is too cool."

"Suit yourself," Snape said with a shrug. "Do you have any further questions, Potter?"

"Does Dumbledore know about this?"

Snape sneered. "Feeling the need to hide behind the Headmaster's robes, are we?"

Harry glared back at him.

"Dumbledore knows," Snape said. "And approves. Ready?"

Harry clutched his wand tightly in his hand.

"Good luck, Harry!" Sera called.

Harry closed his eyes and slapped the hat on his head.

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in a mist-filled room. Before him stood a door, and he supposed that this was the start of the maze. He gripped his wand again and reached for the door knob. Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob and pushed the door open.

He found himself in darkness so complete the rest of the world may just have disappeared. He pressed his back against the door through which he had just entered, somewhat comforted to feel something so solid, and strained his ears for any sound that might reveal a potential threat. He heard nothing, but he could feel the dampness of the air around him on his face. His feet told him he was standing on uneven ground.

He raised his wand and whispered, "Lumos." From his wand's beam of light, he could see that the room he had entered was only eight or ten meters feet across. He trained the beam of light over the entire room, and immediately saw a door allowing exit once he traversed the room. He studied the ceiling, playing the light from corner to corner and found nothing. He then searched the floor, which looked like it was made of a tangle of tree roots.

Harry knew instantly what this was – he'd seen it before. "Devil's snare," he said. He also knew that it was probably already too late to prevent the plant's tendrils from snaking their way around his ankles. He looked down, and sure enough, he could see by his wand's light that he was already wrapped up to his knees.

Back in the real world, Snape muttered. "Very good, Potter. Made that one too easy." He'd forgotten that Professor Sprout's contribution to the protection of the Sorcerer's Stone had been Devil's snare.

"What's Devil's snare?" Sera asked.

"It's a plant that detects the presence of prey when it is touched, and immediately sends out its long tendrils to trap it," Snape explained. "The more the victim attempts to struggle, the tighter it holds on."

Harry knew what he had to do. Gripping his wand tightly (it wouldn't do to lose it now), he pointed his wand at his feet and said, "Incendio". Immediately a blast of fire erupted from his wand at the plant, which made Sera nearly jump to the ceiling. The plant seemed to scream in dismay as it let him go. Harry repeated the spell again and again until he'd made a path across the room, which he crossed, and opened the door.

The moment Harry stepped through, he was struck in the chest by what must have been twenty thin spikes. Blood poured out onto his shirt from the numerous holes, and he dropped to his knees. For an imaginary injury, this hurt like hell. He began to feel extremely sleepy and guessed (correctly) that the spikes were tipped with some kind of sleeping potion. "Agh! Return!" Harry gasped.

He immediately found himself once more outside the door. The spikes were gone, his shirt clean and dry, a surge of adrenalin replacing the fatigue. He felt all over his chest, just to be sure, and it was true. He was completely healed. Although he guessed he'd never really been injured in the first place, had he?

So what now? Something behind that door was going to impale him the moment he opened it. And assuming he could survive the puncture wounds, there was the sleeping draught to figure into the equation. He'd be asleep before he got halfway to where he needed to be. He didn't know what it was in there, where it was, how many of them there might be. What were his options? He could try to disarm it, but what if it didn't actually have arms? What if the spikes were part of it? And if he tried expelliarmus on it, wouldn't all those lethal spikes come flying at him? No, that wasn't a great option.

Maybe immobulus? What if whatever was behind the door wasn't human, or even animal? Would immobulus work on mineral life forms? Maybe protego was the way to go. Producing a shield to prevent the spikes from hitting him seemed like a viable alternative, at least until he could get a look into the room.

Harry raised his wand, grasped the door knob, and turned. "Protego," he said, as he opened the door. A bubble-like form appeared from the end of his wand, pushing into the room, and Harry followed it in. He looked around quickly. There were several green hedge-like forms as tall as he was and twice as wide spread throughout the room. Each one had too many thin spikes protruding from its surface to count, many of which were already flying in Harry's direction.

Okay. Now he'd seen what he was facing, and he turned to go back through the door to gather his thoughts and plan his attack. Unfortunately, the door had disappeared. His loss of focus on the protego charm had resulted in it disappearing altogether as well, and Harry was struck in the back by what felt like a million knives. He dropped to his knees again. " Dammit!" he muttered. "Return."

Once more, Harry was outside the door, beginning to feel embarrassed, sure that Snape was laughing at him from wherever he was. (Actually, Snape was hardly paying attention, carefully chopping roots on a cutting surface. Sera, however, couldn't take her eyes off Harry, fascinated by what was going on. If she thought there was any chance Snape would let her try it, she would have promised him anything, but she knew that even mentioning it was pointless. Besides, maybe the hat didn't work on Muggles.)

So this is what he knew. There were lots of green . . . animals? . . . plants? . . . something else? . . . that all wanted to kill him with razor sharp knives. They were all around the room, which meant he couldn't use a protego shield to deflect all of them, because he didn't know how to make the shield form a bubble around him. Reducio! That was it! If he could shrink them down, their slivers would be no larger than toothpicks, and they wouldn't be able to throw them as far (he hoped), and he had some hope of dodging them. He'd have to be quick to reduce them all, but even if a couple of the spikes got through, he should be all right.

Ready this time, Harry grasped the door knob and opened the door only enough for his wand to point through into the room. "Reducio!" he cried. He pointed his wand this way and that, trying to remember where he'd seen each of the things, shouting "reducio" many more times, until he dared to open the door again.

He peeked around the open door slowly, and ducked back in time to miss most of the projectiles hurled at him from the one left full-sized in the room. One spike grazed his forehead, embedding itself sideways into his skin and one caught him straight on high on the inner thigh, but the rest sailed past harmlessly.

Harry pulled the spike from his forehead, then removed the one sticking out of the front of his trousers, shuddering at how narrowly it had missed what he considered a vital organ. He pointed his wand at the offending mass and reduced it to the size of a tennis ball. One of it's final blast of full-sized spikes managed to graze Harry's arm, but he hardly felt it. Blood dripped steadily into his eye from the wound on his forehead, and he wiped it away with his sleeve, leaving a grisly slash mark.

The little green blobs were still attempting to kill him, but now it looked as though they were throwing sewing needles at him, and the force of their throws made them no threat to him. He looked around the room at all of them, futilely throwing their little spears, and he laughed out loud at them. He felt the pull of sleep as the potion worked its way through his system, but he seemed to have absorbed only enough of the potion to make him sleepy and not enough to drive him all the way into a torporous state.

Passing close to one of the creatures as he approached the door on the other side of the room, Harry kicked it contemptuously aside. As soon as his foot made contact with it, it emitted a shrieking sound so loud and high-pitched, Harry thought his skull was going to split open. This sound made the noise emitted by the golden egg captured from the dragon sound almost musical by comparison. He dropped to his knees, hands covering his ears, trying to hold his head together and keep the sound out, but it had absolutely no effect. The sound was _inside _his head, and if it didn't stop soon, he was going to go mad with the force of it.

"Silencio," he whispered, and mercifully, the noise ceased. Harry rolled onto his side and lay panting on the floor, his head still pounding.

After a time he dared to open his eyes, and he noticed with alarm that the plants were growing larger again. He struggled to his feet, fighting the pounding headache and the lingering sleepiness from the poison, and made his way to the door.

He opened it cautiously, peering in to see as much as he could before entering. It was dark, but not so dark that he couldn't see water. Water was pretty much all he could see. He stepped onto a ledge at its edge, and the door closed soundlessly behind him.

The water was dark, so dark Harry had no idea how deep it might be or what it might contain. He knelt carefully at its edge and stuck a knuckle in tentatively. It was frigid, and he pulled back quickly, sure he'd seen something moving under the surface.

He exhaled deeply and realized that it was cold enough in this room for him to see his breath. Okay. What now?

"Lumos," he said, and his wand's light showed him that it was perhaps twenty-five meters across this body of water to the door on the other side. He searched the room high and low. Except for the small ledge upon which he stood, it was entirely covered with water. His vain hope for a boat had been dashed by the search of his surroundings.

So, he could swim across, he guessed, though he was by no means a strong swimmer. The water temperature had to be very near freezing, and he wasn't sure how long he'd last in there. Not to mention he had no idea what the water might be concealing in its depths. The idea of swimming even one length in that creepy arctic water was not appealing. Maybe he could float across somehow.

But how? He didn't know how to conjure a boat, and there didn't appear to be anything here he could use to skim across the water on. Was it possible to levitate himself across? he wondered. What levitation spells did he know? Wingardium leviosa, of course. And then there was that one that Tonks had used on his trunk when he'd been rescued from the Dursleys last year. What had she said? "Locomotor trunk," Harry murmured, remembering. Could you locomotor yourself?

There was only one way to find out. Readying himself to blurt "Return" if anything went seriously wrong, Harry pointed his wand at himself. "Locomotor Harry," he said clearly. Instantly, Harry felt his feet leave the ground as he floated gently upwards. "It works!" he said, pleased with himself.

But now what? He was hovering above the ledge, but he was stationary, and he needed to get himself across the room. Harry pointed his wand at the door and immediately fell back to the ledge, slipping and losing his balance, then plunging into water so cold he thought it might instantly stop his heart.

He resurfaced, gasping for breath, his body temperature already dropping precipitously. As he caught hold of the ledge and attempted to pull himself back up, he felt something grab onto his ankle and pull downward. "Arrgh!" he cried in frustration. "Return!"

Dry once again, Harry found himself on the other side of the door to the lake. "Bloody hell," he muttered to himself, wiping away another drip of blood from his forehead wound. How long had he been playing this stupid game? And how much more was he going to have to do? He could feel fatigue starting to fill him, and he fought against it.

"All right," he reasoned out loud. "How do I levitate myself and move at the same time?"

Harry tried the spell here and discovered that it did not work. "Great," he muttered. "It only works inside. Guess I'll have to figure it out in there."

He went back in, locomotored himself, and attempted, by moving the wand in only slight increments at a time to move himself. It was working, but he discovered the hard way that when he tried to move too much at once, the spell was broken and he plunged into the water.

Four times he fell, and four times he restarted, each time a little weaker than the last, until finally, he'd made it to almost within arm's reach of the door. As he reached for it, his wand was redirected, and he began to fall again. "NO!" he shouted. "Not again!" and as he fell, he reached for the door frame. He managed to grab onto it, holding on only with his fingers, most of his body in the icy water, with only his arms and head above.

Harry still had his wand, mercifully, and he pointed it at the door. "Alohomora," he said as he felt something slither around his ankle, beginning that relentless pull. The door opened several inches, and Harry used his remaining strength to pull himself up into the doorway.

Now only his legs remained in the water, but he was beginning to lose feeling in them. He could no longer feel whatever was holding onto his ankles, but he knew it was still there from the uncompromising downward pressure. With single-minded determination not to start over again when he was so close, Harry pulled himself further into the doorway. When his ankles were exposed, he could see that whatever held him in its grip had little suction-cup like things on its tentacles. "Confringo!" he squawked, and the arms (or legs) exploded, freeing him.

Harry dragged himself fully through the door and slammed it behind him. He lay on the floor, shivering uncontrollably, for what felt like many minutes. He finally realized that he lay in a freezing puddle of water, which wasn't helping matters, and he got slowly to his feet, unable to stop his chattering teeth, praying that he'd reached the end of this infernal maze, at least for today.

But that prayer was not to be answered, not yet anyway. Harry found himself in a jungle, thick with trees and vines. The trees stretched high into the air, forming a canopy that blocked all but the minutest amount of light. He could see six feet in front of him, but no more, and he could not see the door that would lead him out of here.

Rubbing his arms vigorously, Harry stamped his feet, trying to infuse some warmth into his body, wondering about what lay ahead.

"Lumos," he said tiredly, and he played the beam of light emitted from his wand about the trees. He searched high above him and on all sides before moving at all, trying to identify threats before they could sneak up on him.

Harry heard a small sound and stopped breathing, straining his ears to identify the source and location. He moved cautiously toward where he thought the sound came from, pushing his way through thick branches. He emerged into a clearing, and in the middle of the clearing was a small wooden cage. There was something inside the cage, and Harry guessed whatever was in there had made the sound he'd heard.

Slowly, constantly moving his light around the circle of the clearing, he approached the cage. As he got closer, he could see that the cage contained a tiny black kitten, and he could hear it mewing plaintively inside. He was supposed to rescue a kitten? Wanting to hurry to free the little animal, but sensing something in the darkness that ringed the clearing, Harry moved slowly, his eyes searching beyond the circle of light.

When the cage lay at his feet, he crouched beside it, his eyes still searching for any signs of movement. When he detected nothing, he looked down at the cage. "Hello, there," he said.

The kitten mewed, plainly terrified.

"Don't worry. We'll have you out of there in no time." Harry put the wand in his teeth so he could aim the light at the cage to figure out how to open it, sure this would be a challenge as well. Surprising with its simplicity, it was a plain hook and eye fastening.

Searching the darkness around him one more time, now convinced that something would spring out at him as soon as he touched the kitten, Harry unhooked the door and stuck his hand into the cage. His hand met the furry little body and closed around the scruff of its neck, and Harry tensed for attack. Nothing happened. Harry lifted the kitten out and held it level with his face, still listening for noises behind him that would betray the presence of an enemy, and looked into the kitten's blue eyes.

"Well, aren't you just about the cutest thing?" Harry asked. "All right then?"

In response, the kitten began to wriggle in his grasp. To Harry's horror, the body began to lengthen before his eyes, the head becoming more broad and rounded. It's gentle blue kitten eyes morphed into small, almost piggish, dark eyes, outlined by a light silvery mask, and it's pointed ears rounded out. The legs shortened proportionately, and long dark nails sprouted at the end of each toe.

Harry held on tightly to the snarling animal's thick, dark, oily fur, keeping the convulsing beast at arm's length as it grew, until it became heavy enough that he could no longer hold it. When it was the size of a cocker spaniel, he dropped it.

It touched the ground for no longer than a second before it launched itself at Harry's head. Harry felt the nail-like claws digging into his shoulders as the animal's foul-smelling body plastered itself to his face as it attempted to devour one of his ears. Harry felt his own hot blood running down his neck, and the thought of simply saying "return" never occurred to him in his fear and panic.

"Get off me, you bloody beast!" he said, his voice muffled by the fur, and he tried to pull the animal off. It held on tightly, and Harry stumbled around in the clearing, trying to pry the thing off his head. Finally, almost as it if had a will of its own, his wand, which had been in his hand the entire time, came up and pointed at the underside of the creature. "Reducto!" Harry gasped.

Harry was thrown backward to the ground by the force of the explosion that finally rid him of the offending animal. Looking up quickly, to make sure it wasn't coming back for a second attempt, Harry saw that there were only little pieces of the beast left, floating harmlessly down in a lazy zig zag pattern to the jungle floor.

He lay back, closing his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control. He thought of the beast he had just killed, but saw it in its original form, the small, helpless kitten, and knew he was going to be sick. He sat up quickly and was immediately made sorry he'd done so by his swimming head. He went to his hands and knees, lowered his head, and vomited.

After he'd heaved everything he could out of his stomach, he crawled away from the mess and collapsed onto his back again, breathing in large, gasping breaths. He supposed he ought to be more alert, looking for additional threats, but at this moment, he really didn't care. If something else was out there trying to get him, let it. He wouldn't even call for Snape to rescue him. He'd just blown up a kitten! What kind of a person did that?

After a time, Harry opened his eyes and just lay looking up at the tree branches. His eyes wandered aimlessly about, and he realized that his right ear was throbbing. He reached up a hand to touch it and was horrified to find it only semi-attached. It felt like it was all there, but he couldn't be sure.

Harry thought over his injuries. When he'd returned to the beginning, earlier in the maze, the injuries he had sustained had disappeared, including all evidence that he'd ever had them. When he'd sustained the injuries after returning (the cut over his eye from the spike, for instance), those injuries had stayed with him.

He supposed if he said "return" now, he would start over again outside this jungle room, his ear in one piece, and he contemplated doing that, but only for a moment. If he did that, he'd have to face the kitten again, watch it turn into . . . whatever that thing had been, and he'd have to kill it again. The kitten was key, and leaving it alone was not an option. He knew this, though he couldn't say how.

The only thing he had to gain by starting over (aside from having both his ears intact) was that he now knew what the kitten would become, and he could kill it before it transformed. Which meant killing a small, helpless, achingly cute baby animal. Weak as it might sound, he didn't think he could do that, nor did he want to wait until it transformed into the beast from hell, and he decided that if he lost part of his ear, it was a small price to pay to have this over with. So there would be no returning.

Now to get out of here. As his eyes traveled over the ceiling of branches beneath which he lay, Harry realized that he'd seen something earlier, but he hadn't realized its importance at the time, his mind being otherwise occupied. In the undefined shapes that were the branches over his head, something up there had a clearly more linear outline, and Harry got slowly to his feet to get a better look at it. He shined his wand's light in its direction and decided that what he saw might be a door, but he thought he'd need to climb the tree to get a better look.

Placing his wand in his teeth once again, Harry picked the tree that seemed nearest the door and began to climb. Expecting opposition, he moved slowly, but none came. When he was finally opposite what was, in fact, a door, needing only to open it and jump through, he looked around one last time, hoping that this had been the last task. He didn't think he could handle any more today.

"Alohomora," he whispered, and the door flew open. Beyond it, he could see the basement, and his heart gave a surge of joy. Gathering all of the strength he had left, Harry leapt at the door, somersaulting through it and landing sprawled on his back. Harry gasped, just once, in joy and relief, then got slowly to his hands and knees, then to his feet.

He could tell he looked a mess by the look of horror on Serafina's face, a hand covering her mouth, her eyes as big as saucers. He tried to smile reassuringly, but his vision began to blur. Loss of blood, he supposed. Ear injuries must bleed lots. He began to sway a little, and from far away he heard Serafina say, "Uncle!"

Snape had been only vaguely aware of Harry's tumble back into reality, as, of course, the real Harry had always been right here in the basement. He looked up at his niece's cry and gaped at the vision that stood before him. Harry's shirt was stained with blood, his clothes wet through. One ear dangled sickeningly off the side of his head, and another somewhat deep cut marred his forehead, smeared blood obscuring the famous scar. The shirt was ripped, revealing ugly scratches on both shoulders. Snape stood frozen, cataloging these injuries, as Harry, shivering violently, swayed on his feet, then staggered, trying to keep his balance. What had happened? He should have come through the maze unscathed.

Finally realizing that he needed to take some action, Snape hurried to Harry's side.

"You said," Harry started, but then closed his eyes, his head snapping back and then forward again. "You said, this would be all in my 'magination."

And he passed out, not knowing or caring that Snape caught him before he hit the floor, lowering him the remainder of the way gently. Snape set to work with his wand, muttering "Episkey" over and over again as he touched his wand to Harry's injuries. The most serious, of course, was the half-severed ear, and Snape worked over that for many moments before he was satisfied he'd done all he could to reattach it. Serafina hovered worriedly nearby.

"Will he be all right?" she asked when Snape had finished working.

Snape looked up, only now becoming aware that she was still here. "Yes. Yes, he should be fine," he said quietly, hoping that were true.

Harry began to stir, his eyes fluttering open, and he looked up at the two of them. Serafina knelt beside him. "Harry, are you okay?"

Without knowing if he was or not, Harry nodded. "I need to sit up," he said.

She helped him to sit up, and he took some calming breaths before looking over at Snape. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Snape admitted. "I must speak with Dumbledore."

"Good then," Harry said, feeling woozy again. He fell against Serafina, and she held him upright.

"I think we need to get him upstairs and into bed," she said, looking up at her uncle for help.

"Yes, quite right," Snape said. Now that Potter was conscious, he was reluctant to touch him, but he supposed the girl couldn't do this herself, and he went to Harry's side and assisted him, none too gently, to his feet. With an arm around Snape's neck, Harry half-walked and was half-dragged up the basement steps and toward his room. Serafina brought up the rear.

"No," Harry said. "I can't get into bed like this." He looked down at himself. His clothes looked like they'd had a blood bath and he could only imagine what his head and face looked like. "I need a shower."

"Can you manage?" Snape asked coldly. He had his limits.

"I'll be fine," Harry said, removing his arm from around Snape and leaning against the wall for support. "Thank you."

Harry went into the bathroom and shut the door on Snape's concerned expression. Probably just worried about how Dumbledore was going to react to what had just happened, Harry guessed.

He looked in the mirror, and gasped at his own reflection. It was as bad as he'd feared, and he sighed. He turned to look at his ear and was surprised to see that it looked almost normal. Snape must have done a good job fixing him up. The cut above his eye was gone, as were the cuts on his shoulders and arm. Harry unsnapped and unzipped his jeans and lowered them. He was kind of happy to see that the puncture wound on his thigh was still there. He shuddered to think that Snape might have been mucking around down there, especially with Serafina watching.

Harry turned the water on as hot as possible and began to slowly strip off his soiled clothing.

##########

After a long, hot shower, Harry had wrapped a towel around his waist, staggered into his room, and barely gotten into his pajamas before he collapsed into bed and into the blessed respite of sleep. He slept soundly for an hour before the nightmare started. Harry began to enter the familiar blurred, colorless arena in which he dreamed and saw the kitten in its cage. Before he could go any further, he felt the images being stroked away by a cool, soft touch, and he opened his eyes to find Serafina lying on the bed next to him. It was her hand on his face that had chased the troubling visions away.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep. "If Snape . . ."

"He's gone," Sera said quietly. "Won't be back for a hour or so. You were having a nightmare."

"Hmm," Harry acknowledged. She was a bit blurry since he wasn't wearing his glasses, but he made no move to reach for them. He was so tired. "It was the kitten."

"Kitten?"

"From before. From the 'maginarius," he murmured.

"Is that what you said was so cute? You were obviously holding something up, and you said it was the cutest thing you'd ever seen."

Harry closed his eyes, remembering. "It turned into something really nasty. And I blew it up. I killed a kitten!"

"Well, no, you didn't really kill anything, did you?" Sera pointed out.

"It was so real! What did you see?" Harry asked, curious despite the overwhelming fatigue.

"Just you. It really was like one of those virtual reality games. I know you don't know what that is. You wear like a helmet on your head, and it's as though you were inside a video game. You hear and see things, and you can run and jump and climb around inside. That's what you were doing. Once, you were suddenly covered with blood. It was so terrifying! But you said 'return', and it was all gone. I'd forgotten it wasn't real, too, I guess. Then you were lying on the floor, holding your head like it was going to explode. I almost ran to you then, but Uncle said not to, that it wasn't real, that you were fine. And then it was over, but it wasn't over. I was so scared, Harry!"

"It's okay," he said, now soothing her. "They'll figure out what went wrong, why it all didn't just disappear when it was over, and it'll be fine."

Harry was struggling to speak coherently through the pull of sleep. Serafina noticed, and she kissed his forehead, the tip of his nose, and his mouth, softly. "You sleep. I'll be right here if you need me."

Harry felt her settle herself onto the bed and then knew nothing else for a time.

##########

When Snape returned, Sera was sitting in a chair, her feet propped up on Harry's bed, reading. Snape looked in and seemed a little surprised to find her there. She closed her book and stood up.

"How is he?"

"Still sleeping. He was having nightmares, so I came in. Seemed to quiet him down with someone here, so I stayed. Did you figure out what happened?"

"I think so. We'll discuss it once Potter awakens."

"All right. I'll just sit here with him a while longer."

##########

Harry didn't wake until dinner was ready, and even then only did so because Sera forced him to, at Snape's insistence.

He practically sleepwalked to the table and sat down, his head held upright by his chin resting in his hand, his eyes barely open. "What did you find out?" he asked, then yawned.

"Dumbledore had a theory," Snape began. "It is his belief that early and persistent use of one's imagination in childhood might create a mind in which all things imaginary are more . . . real than they might be to those whose imaginations weren't strengthened by prolonged and repeated use. Is it possible that you were such a child?"

Harry pried his eyelids open and looked at Snape, his gaze echoing the sadness and loneliness of an unwanted little boy. "Do we really have to get into that?"

"It will help us to understand and, hopefully, to prevent what happened this morning from happening again. If we can't, the imaginarius is useless to you."

Well, that wasn't entirely true, Harry supposed. So he got a few scratches and almost lost an ear in a training session? Wouldn't he have more incentive to get things right the first time if his physical well-being depended on it? And if he received a benefit that outweighed the damage, might it not still be a useful tool? He guessed Dumbledore had decided that it was not.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. Why was he so tired? "The other children wouldn't play with me because my cousin would beat them up if they even talked to me. So I invented people who did all sorts of interesting things in exciting places. I walked around with movies in my head, all the time. I could keep the same fantasy running in my head for days at a time. Pretty pathetic, I know."

"Not at all," Snape murmured, familiar enough with forced isolation. He'd had only one real friend as a child, and even she had turned on him later. Serafina, too, knew Harry's pain. She'd been moved around so much as a child that she'd never been able to develop friendships with other children. She'd had a doll that she'd loved dearly and that she considered a friend, until it was left behind during one of their sudden, middle-of-the-night moves.

"So it appears that Dumbledore was right," Snape said. "Now that we know why, perhaps we can figure out a way to work around your overwrought imagination."

Harry didn't care any more. He pushed his plate forward so that he could rest his head on his folded arms. All he wanted to do was sleep.

Snape looked at him, puzzled. Suddenly, an idea struck him. "Potter, is it possible that you sustained an injury this morning from the protubera orbicular that was not healed?"

"Is that what that thing was?" Harry asked, without raising his head. "I thought it was something that had come from _your _imagination."

"Answer the question!"

This time Harry did open his eyes, though only enough to see Snape through slits. "It's possible," he admitted and allowed his eyes to close again.

"We must heal it immediately!"

"No."

"No?" Snape repeated, surprised.

"No, _sir_?" Harry tried again.

"Its poison is obviously still in your system! If it's not healed, immediately, you will feel increasingly drowsy until you finally fall asleep and just . . . don't wake up! I'm afraid I must insist."

"I'll do it myself."

"In your present state? Do you really want to stake something as important as your life on your ability to conjure a spell sufficiently powerful enough to rid yourself of the toxin that's coursing through you?" Snape was a little surprised by Potter's reluctance to let him do this. What was the matter with the boy?!

"Harry, let Uncle help you!" Serafina cried. She, too, couldn't understand why Harry was fighting this. He obviously needed help.

"It's just . . . the wound . . . it's in rather a private area, if you get my drift," Harry said, and he could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Snape actually rolled his eyes. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter! Would you rather die from misplaced modesty?!"

"That's a tough one," Harry admitted.

Snape got quickly to his feet. "Enough of this nonsense! Time is of the essence! Can you walk?"

Harry didn't think so, and he didn't even try. He could no longer move. His arms and legs felt as though they'd been filled with quick-setting cement.

"Miss Mallory! Leave us at once!" Snape ordered, and Sera quickly did as he bid with a fearful look at Harry.

Snape eased Harry from his chair onto the dining room floor and knelt beside him. He had a very good idea at least of the general vicinity of the wound Harry had sustained, and when he tugged Harry's pajama bottoms down, he spotted the puncture wound on Harry's upper thigh right away. It was about the size of a knut and had darkened to a deep, nasty purple.

Snape shook his head – the boy's modesty had nearly cost him his life. He touched his wand to the wound, concentrating fully, muttering incantations under his breath. As he did, he felt the poison being sucked out of its host and into his wand. When he was sure that he had it all, he pulled his wand away.

Harry looked up at him, eyes wide open now. "Thanks. My humiliation's complete now."

Snape looked away and stood up, allowing Harry to redress himself in privacy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. One of the characters is just under 16 in the beginning. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

7 _Firsts_

When Harry appeared for breakfast the following morning, Snape asked, "Back to normal, are we?"

"Yes. Sorry, sir," Harry added with a grin.

Serafina smiled at him as she brought breakfast to the table. "Let me help," Harry offered.

He went to the kitchen for the few remaining items, and they sat to eat. "I'll be away most of the day today," Snape informed them. "I'll be visiting Diagon Alley to stock up on supplies, Potter, if there's anything that you need there."

"Oh, no thank you, Professor," Harry said, surprised. Almost dying yesterday had made Snape act nice to him. Maybe he should do that more often.

"I'll be meeting with the Headmaster as well," Snape continued. "He has some ideas on how to modify the imaginarius, based on his theory about your imagination. Have you any messages for him?"

"No, sir. Just tell him I said hello."

"We will need to discuss your performance under the imaginarius. Your handling of the Devil's snare was spot on, and your reaction to the protubera orbicular was very creative, though there were other spells you could have used that would have been perhaps more effective. We shall also discuss how you might have better traversed the water portion of the maze. And the badger –"

"That was a badger?!"

"Yes. Though you ultimately prevailed, there are detection spells you could have used to determine the danger before it attacked you. I will teach you these. All in all, you did surprisingly well. But we shall discuss what might have been better options when I return."

Snape was complimenting him? This was certainly a first, and Harry felt a strange sense of pride at the man's words.

"I was planning on going into town today myself," Sera said. "We need some groceries. Would it be all right if Harry went with me?" She'd made several trips to town since they'd come to stay here, but she'd always gone solo, while Harry was taking his lessons.

"He stays here," Snape said.

"Come on," Sera wheedled. "Let him go. It'll be fine. I'll take good care of him."

"I said no."

"This must be what taxation without representation was like," Sera complained. "And look what _that _got you!"

Snape looked at her, amused, then looked at Harry, reconsidering. "The wand stays here."

"Of course, sir," Harry said, surprised again that Snape was going to let him leave the premises.

"I trust you can behave yourselves?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said obediently, but Sera said, "Where's the fun in that?"

Snape stared pointedly at her. "I shall return by dinner time. Do you require funds, Miss Mallory?"

"No. They gave me a card to use. They put money into an account, and I can use the card to draw off it. It's for groceries and gas and stuff like that."

"All right then. I shall see you when I return."

##########

Harry eyed the old pickup truck warily, wondering if it would hold together long enough to get wherever they were going. Its primary color was rust, some of which may have developed during the Great Depression. Or the Ireland potato famine.

"She's old," Sera said as she approached him, noting his disapproval, "But she's solid as a rock."

"Here's hoping," Harry said. He put his hand on the door handle and opened the door.

"Are you planning on driving?" Sera asked, and Harry looked into the cab and realized that someone had put the steering wheel on the wrong side of the vehicle.

"That's odd," he said.

"No. That's how we do it here. Get in."

Harry slid in under the steering wheel and across the front seat to the opposite door.

"Are you sure Uncle is gone?" she asked.

"I checked the basement. He wasn't there, although I guess he might have apparated back, just to check on us."

"I'll take that chance," she said, then leaned over to kiss him. "I'm glad you're going with me," she said as she started the truck.

Sera backed out of the driveway and pulled onto the dirt road. This would be Harry's first opportunity to see more of this area than the house, the lake, and the path through the woods that connected them. It was a beautiful day, and Harry hung his arm out the open window.

"How long have you been driving?" he asked.

"I started driving this truck when I was thirteen, helping Gram out. She kept livestock until a year or so ago, and we used it to deliver hay and haul things around."

"You can drive when you're thirteen here?!" Harry asked incredulously.

"Well, no. But back then I just drove it around in the pasture, not out on the road."

"And how old do you have to be to get a license to drive on the road?"

"Sixteen."

"And you turned sixteen at the end of May. So you got your license sometime between then and when I showed up here early in June?"

"Did I ever tell you that I can milk a cow? By hand?"

Harry wasn't to be deterred that easily. "You do _have _your license, don't you?"

Sera bore a hole in the windshield with her stare. "Do you have an issue with my driving?"

So far she'd managed to keep them on the road. "No. But you're avoiding the question."

"You sound like my uncle," Sera complained. "No. I don't have a license! Are you happy now?"

"Not particularly. Aren't you worried about getting caught?"

"What are you, the good little boy who always follows the rules or something?"

"No, I guess not," Harry admitted, realizing what a hypocrite he sounded like. "So, where are we going?"

Sera explained a little about Maple Ridge, the town which was located around twenty minutes away. It was a small town, containing a grocery store, a bank, a hardware store, two gas stations, one restaurant, one fast food joint, a couple of churches, and the usual public buildings.

When they arrived, Sera parked in the first lot she came to, on the outer edge of town, and they got out. Sera secured the truck, and said, "Let's just walk a bit. It's such a nice day."

"Not to mention we don't want you getting arrested for driving without a license," Harry pointed out.

"Well, there's that, too," Sera agreed.

Sera led him through a parking lot filled with vehicles, many of them minivans. "This is where I go to school," she explained. "That's the elementary school," she said, pointing at a two-story, fairly new-looking brick building to their right. "And that's the junior/senior high school." She indicated to their left a remarkably similar-looking building. Between the two buildings, athletic fields stretched. Harry saw two football fields, both teeming with children and ringed by watching parents and grandparents. He also saw what looked like two baseball fields (one was actually a softball field).

Sera took Harry by the hand and led him away from the fields and up a small hill. Here they were alone, looking down on all the activity going on below them. On one field, the one closest to the elementary school, small children, aged five or six, chased after a white and black ball. The children wore either yellow or blue shirts, although there was no clear sense of team, and certainly nothing that anyone could classify as positions. The children moved after the ball in a happy, chattering swarm, with the exception of one child who was running toward the watching parents and another who was sitting on the ground picking dandelions. Two adults, whom Harry supposed were the coaches, were attempting to separate the children into some coherent formation, but were utterly failing. The action came to a stop when the ball squirted out of the mass of humanity and into the goal behind the goalkeeper, who was busy waving to his father. None of the kids seemed to realize which team had scored, but many of the parents cheered heartily, telling Harry that they were taking this much more seriously than their children were.

The other field contained slightly older, slightly more organized children and just as many boisterously cheering adults. Some of these adults had positioned themselves between the fields and were watching both games.

Harry and Sera sat on the grass overlooking all of this familial entertainment.

"So is this what normal American Muggles do on a Saturday morning?" Harry asked.

Sera shrugged. "I guess so. Wasn't exactly 'normal' at that age. Certainly not what _I_ was doing." It didn't sound as though Sera wanted to share what she _had _been doing, so Harry didn't ask. He suspected it would just depress both of them anyway. Sera continued, "Soccer's pretty popular where you come from. Never played?"

Harry shook his head. "The Dursleys would no sooner have signed me up for organized sports than they would have let me share Dudley's room. That would have meant acknowledging to the outside world that I existed."

They sat quietly for a moment, staring at the activity before them, neither really seeing it. Finally, Sera stood up abruptly. "Ready to go?" If she stayed here any longer, she'd fall into the puddle of self-pity found at the bottom of the "what if" slide.

Harry stood up beside her, and with one last look at the happy families below, said, "I'm ready."

Hand in hand, they toured the rest of the town, Sera commenting on the points of interest (there weren't many), and Harry enjoying just being in her presence here, like a normal person. When they came to the end of the main street and were about to turn around, Harry noticed something.

"What's that?" he asked, gesturing at a shop with their joined hands.

"Oh! That's Madam Mrvichin's! I'd forgotten about her! They says she's a witch!"

"Who's 'they'?"

"You know, the mysterious, collective 'they'."

Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Shall we go in?"

"I don't see how we couldn't," Sera said, up for anything.

A bell tinkled above the door when they walked into the dark shop. They could just make out the shape of a ginger cat sitting on the counter, staring at them through the gloom, but no humans appeared to be present. "Do you think she's really a witch?" Serafina whispered.

"I dunno," Harry said. "It's possible."

They looked around the shop quietly, still holding hands. It was a little creepy in here, and Sera kept close to Harry's side. Withered heads were hung on the wall, dried plants of many varieties were hanging from the rafters, and a strange smell not unlike incense permeated the place.

Harry spotted a broomstick in the corner, and he approached it excitedly. What he wouldn't give to fly! He reached out his hand, sure that if he said "up", the broom would hurl itself into his hand, as eager as he was to take to the skies. But, of course, he said nothing, and the broom remained where it was, and both were disappointed. But Harry had felt the power pulsing out from the broom, and he was now convinced that whoever owned this shop, and wherever she was, she was definitely a witch. He whispered this knowledge into Sera's ear.

"What? How do you know?" she whispered back.

"Tell you later," he said. He had turned around, and there was suddenly a woman standing behind the counter on which the cat had been sitting. The cat was nowhere to be seen. Immediately, the word "animagus" jumped into Harry's head.

Despite the fact that he knew better, Harry had expected an old, hag-like woman, and the beautiful woman standing before them surprised him. She had flaming red hair and cat-like green eyes, and she easily cleared six feet tall. She appraised them silently for a moment before speaking. She didn't get a lot of visitors in here.

"Welcome to Madam Mrvichin's. Is there something I can help you with today?"

"We're just browsing, thank you," Harry said, as Sera seemed unable to speak.

"Ah, you would be our visitor from across the pond," Madam Mrvichin said, nodding and smiling. When she smiled, she was dazzling, and Harry couldn't help but smile back.

Had his accent given him away, or was she a part of the local wizarding government that knew he was here? He didn't know, so he said merely, "Yes, ma'am. Harry Potter. And this is Serafina Mallory."

"Welcome," she said with a slight bow.

"Thank you."

They continued to browse quietly for a time, Harry constantly returning to the broomstick he wanted so badly to set free.

"Harry, look at this!" Sera said excitedly. She'd found a mortar and pestle, something she'd seen her uncle using in his work. This set looked incredibly old, but was well-maintained cast iron.

"You have a good eye," Madam Mrvichin said approvingly.

Harry took the mortar from Serafina's hands. It was extremely heavy, and he turned it over carefully. A snake slithered its way around the bottom of the bowl. A matching reptile snaked its way up the pestle. "You wanted a birthday present for your uncle – this is it."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"How much is it?" Sera asked.

"Two hundred. Dollars," they were told.

Sera was disappointed. She didn't have anywhere near that much. "Aww! So much for that!"

"Wait a moment," Harry said, deciding to take a chance. "You don't by chance accept galleons, do you?"

She looked Harry from head to toe, trying to decide if this boy could make good on what he was apparently offering.

"I do," she finally said.

"I don't know the exchange rate from American dollars to galleons, so I suppose I'll have to trust you on that," he said.

"Let's call it twenty-five galleons."

"Done," Harry said, digging into his pockets. Even while he was doing it he'd had no idea why he was taking his coins out of his trunk before they'd left the house earlier, but now he was glad he had. He counted the galleons out into her hand, and she said, "I'll box that up for you. Would you like it gift wrapped?"

"Yes, please," Sera said excitedly. She threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Harry! I'll pay you back some how!"

Harry kissed her. "You just did."

Sera and Harry walked happily back to the truck, her uncle's present clutched in Sera's hands. "How did you know she was a witch?" Sera finally remembered to ask.

"The broomstick. It was enchanted. It wanted me to take it up flying. I could feel it. The broomstick you've got in the cupboard at home never felt that way. Blimey, I miss flying!"

They'd almost made their way back to the truck, but now Sera's footsteps faltered. "Uh oh," she said.

Harry looked in the direction she was facing and saw a boy, about their age, he guessed. He was large, like Dudley, and had a mean pig face, like Dudley. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck rose. Bullies the world over gave off a certain vibe, and this one was no different.

"Someone you know?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice steady and wishing now he'd brought his wand.

"Yeah. Unfortunately," Sera said. She slipped her hand into his, and he could tell she was shaking.

"It's all right," he said with more conviction than he felt. As he got closer, he could tell this bloke was even larger than Dudley, and he had no idea how he was going to handle this. But handle this it was apparent he must, because whoever he was, he was now leaning against the driver's door of Sera's truck. "Get in the truck, Sera," he said quietly.

"But, Harry . . . " she started.

"Sera, just get in the truck. Don't argue with me. Please." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then let go.

As she crossed to the opposite side of the truck, the Dudley-clone said, "Well, if it isn't Serafina Mallory." He mispronounced her name deliberately with a long I, like Sera-Fine-Ah.

"Travis," Sera said as she opened the passenger side door and slid into the truck.

"And who might you be?" Travis said, peering down his pug nose at Harry. He had eight inches on Harry and outweighed him by at least fifty pounds.

"Harry," he said, holding his hand out, hoping the situation could be resolved by civility, though his long history with bullies told him that was a foolish expectation. "Harry Potter."

Travis looked down at his hand for a moment, before grabbing it in a crushing grip.

"Ah!" Harry cried out, trying to extract his hand. Travis only held on tighter.

"Travis! Let him go!" Sera called from inside the truck.

"You come on out, and maybe I will," Travis offered.

"Stay where you are!" Harry gasped, hoping she'd locked the doors. She had.

"Where's your little friend from, Serafina?" Again with the long I. "He talks like a little queer. Looks like one, too. You want a real man, like me. We both know it. You're like your mother that way. Now come on out, or I'll break your little friend's hand."

"No, Sera!" Harry said when he saw that she had started to open the door. Harry looked around frantically, but they were alone in this parking lot. Would someone come if he yelled for help?

Sera opened the door and got out of the truck. "Let him go, Travis. Your beef is with me, not him."

Travis let got of Harry's hand, which immediately began to throb, and grabbed Harry's shirt at the neck. Harry saw the punch coming, but he couldn't avoid it – Travis held him too tightly. The meaty fist caught him square in the nose and sent him reeling to the pavement when Travis finally released him.

When Harry's mind cleared sufficiently to allow him to see, he was aware of two things. His glasses were broken (again), and Travis had Sera pinned against the truck door. It was evident he was trying to kiss her and just as evident that she was trying to avoid him, but he was much too large for her and would have his way with her if he wasn't stopped.

Something snapped inside of Harry, a feeling he remembered from the day he'd finally confronted evil Aunt Marge, and streetlights which had been off in the bright daylight began to flicker. The lone traffic light on Main Street cycled through its three colors, one after the other, causing traffic to screech to a halt in all directions. The price per gallon on the electronic gas pumps at the nearest gas station suddenly began to climb. And, most importantly of all, Travis flew back away from Sera as though propelled by an invisible explosion. Harry ran to Sera's side. "Are you all right?"

Twenty feet away, Travis lay on his back, sputtering. "What the hell . . .?" and he started to get back to his feet, obviously intent on coming at them again.

"Harry!" Serafina called, fear in her voice, when she saw him rise and stumble toward them.

"Stupefy!" someone shouted, and once again Travis was sent flying backward.

Harry turned to look and was surprised and relieved to see Madam Mrvichin pointing her wand at Travis. "Madam Mrvichin!"

"Go, Harry! Take her and go! I'll take care of this garbage. He won't remember a thing about what happened today."

"Thank you," Harry said.

Sera was crying, and he helped her into the truck and got in himself. "Can you drive?" Harry asked, not wanting to pressure her after what she'd just been through, but aware they needed to get out of here quickly, before anyone else showed up.

Through her tears, Sera nodded and started the truck. With one last fearful look at Travis, still lying on the ground with the tall red-haired witch standing over him, she pulled out of the parking lot.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry. If I'd known he would be here, I never would have brought you into town with me," Sera sobbed.

"It's not your fault, Sera," Harry said, and he reached over to take her hand off the steering wheel so he could hold it and try to calm her.

She snatched her hand away from him with a gasp.

"Did he hurt you?" Harry asked.

"He bent my little finger back." She held up her right hand, and the little finger was bent at a crazy angle. "It's okay. It only hurts a little."

"Who was that guy?"

"Travis Heath. I saw him dealing drugs to kids at school. He got arrested, then expelled. Spent about four months in prison. He blames me."

Harry inhaled through his mouth. Breathing through his nose hurt too much.

"Are you okay?" she asked, looking over at him anxiously.

Harry gingerly felt his nose, moving it a little. "Ah! I don't think it's broken," he said, although it hurt like hell.

Sera pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store.

"What are you doing?"

"We came here for groceries. We still need those groceries."

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Harry asked.

Sera took a deep breath. "I'm all right. But you'd better wait here. You look like you ran into the chainsaw massacre guy."

After Sera left the truck, Harry flipped the visor down and flinched at his reflection in the mirror. Blood had gushed from his nose down his chin and onto his shirt. He did, indeed, look like he'd run into a demented chainsaw-wielding psycho. Harry sighed. Why did these things always happen to him? He needed an aspirin or two. Or six. He closed his eyes and slumped down in the seat, hoping to keep out of view until Sera returned.

When she did return, she loaded the groceries into the back of the truck, then slid onto the seat beside him. "Okay?" she asked.

He nodded, the headache he'd felt coming on since he'd been punched growing bigger inside his head.

Without speaking further, Sera started the truck and drove out of town. A couple of miles from the house, she pulled over to the side of the dirt road next to a wire fence, turned the engine off, and turned to look at him. "Don't open that door. That's an electric fence."

"Why are you stopping here?" Harry asked.

She slid across the seat until she was sitting next to him. "Because I can't stand the feel of his hands on me any more. I need you to chase him away. Kiss me, Harry."

"But, Sera, my face . . . I'm covered in blood."

"I don't care," she said, reaching up to kiss him, gore and all.

Harry's headache began to pound in his skull, then mysteriously disappeared as he gave in to her demanding mouth. He could taste his own blood, and he knew that she could, too, but it didn't seem to matter to either of them, and it quickly became steamy inside the cab of the truck.

"Touch me, Harry. Please."

And Harry did. He slid a hand under her shirt, feeling the warm skin of her stomach as he slid upward. When he met her bra, he hesitated, but she reached behind herself and, with one hand, undid the snap. Harry knew that he shouldn't, but he couldn't seem to stop himself, and his hand slid up until he cupped her breast. He brushed a thumb over her hardened nipple and relished the shudder he felt course through her at his touch. Somehow, as they'd been kissing, they'd maneuvered themselves so that he was lying half on top of her, her head nearly under the steering wheel. He felt a hand on the button on his jeans and knew it wasn't his. Although taking her right now appealed to most of him, the part of him that was honorable knew this was wrong.

"Sera!" he gasped, his lips not leaving hers. "No!"

Despite his words, his thumb continued to stroke her, driving Sera into a frenzy of wanting. He realized this at last and removed his hand from under her shirt.

"Harry!" she complained at the loss of contact.

"Sera," he said, looking down into her eyes. The desire he saw there threatened to pull him back down, and he had to close his eyes. He wasn't an animal! He could resist her! "We have to stop," he said firmly.

"No. I want you," she said simply.

Though he suspected she wanted him for all the wrong reasons, her statement seemed to drive all the chivalry right out of him. He opened his eyes again. "I don't want you to regret this tomorrow."

"I won't," she assured him. She had finally managed to undo the button on his jeans, and she slid her hand inside his boxers, finding his erection and taking away the last of Harry's objections.

Sera sat up and removed her shirt, stripping her bra away with it.

"Sera!" Harry protested. "What if someone comes along?"

"No one will," she assured him. There were only two houses on this road – one belonging to her grandmother and the other to an elderly man who didn't drive. She was sure they'd be undisturbed for as long as they chose to be here. She tossed her clothes to the floor of the cab.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, and he reached out to touch her reverently. He'd never seen anything quite as beautiful as she was, even with blood smeared around her mouth from kissing him. Sera lifted her butt to shimmy out of her jeans and underwear, then turned to him and kissed him. "Your turn," she instructed.

Harry began to feel shy now, but he followed her lead and removed his clothes from the waist down. Sera eyed him appreciatively, then slid over and pressed her body against his. She didn't care if he left his shirt on – her hormones were operating in overdrive, and she wanted him now.

Harry pulled her down on top of him on the truck seat, ignoring the seatbelt poking into his back, their lips fused together, her hot, firm body settled between his legs, creating a delicious pressing sensation on his cock. He couldn't help but thrust against her once or twice. There was one other thing they needed to get out of the way. "Sera, I've never . . . I don't know how . . ."

Sera's affection for Harry surged as she looked down at him, and she thought for a moment she might laugh out loud. "Are you talking about completely, or just the specifics?" She ground her pelvis down against him, causing him to gasp loudly.

"Well, I know the basics, of course," he said, blushing deeply. His hands wandered down to cup her bare bottom, and he savored the feel of those round firm cheeks.

"I think we can figure the rest out." She lifted up off him, grasped the base of his erection, and held the tip to her dripping vagina. "This seems right," she breathed into his mouth.

"Mmmm," Harry agreed, closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip. He thought his lack of experience could be solved by every instinct he had, which was screaming at him to push into her moist heat. He could no longer think of anything but possessing her.

"Take me, Harry," she ordered. She breached herself with the head of his cock and slowly began to lower herself down onto him.

He wanted to take it slowly, he really did, but he seemed to be driven completely by a primal need deep in his gut.

"Sera!" he cried, a warning that he couldn't stop himself, and he thrust up into her forcefully. Though she was ready for him, there was a slight resistance, and he rocked his hips once or twice before he felt himself plunge all the way into her heavenly depths.

"Sweet Jesus!" he muttered. And he no longer worried that he didn't know what to do, or that someone might catch them, or that Voldemort wanted to kill him. A song as old as man began to sing in his veins as he moved relentlessly inside her. She was greedy and grasping and calling his name, and he lost himself in pleasure so exquisite it was almost pain. She made a whimpering noise in the back of her throat that signaled her own surrender, and Harry drove into her one last time before he, too, went over the edge into the abyss of sweet release. As he grunted like a caveman and emptied himself into her, Sera held tightly to him, murmuring words he could not make out in his ear.

When he was finally drained, Harry opened his eyes to find her looking down at him, tears shining in her eyes.

"Have I hurt you? Oh my God, I've hurt you!" he cried. He tried to sit up, which caused his still half-hard penis to slide out of her with a rush of fluid, but she pushed him down and lay her head on his shoulder.

"Sera, please. Tell me . . . did I do something wrong? Did it hurt?" He himself had never experienced anything near so wonderful, but if he'd caused her pain, he was prepared to swear off sex forever.

She snorted, half in amusement, and he felt her shake her head in the negative.

"Then what is it? Please tell me," he begged.

"You'll think it's stupid," she sniffed.

"No, I won't. I swear. Let's sit up."

Sera popped her head up. "Oh, we've got an audience."

"What?!" Harry asked, dismayed, and he tried to sit up, her weight on top of him making that difficult.

He couldn't understand why Sera was giggling, until he finally worked himself up to a sitting position beneath the steering wheel and looked out the passenger window to see three black and white cows staring languidly at them with large brown eyes, their bottom jaws working sideways as they chewed their cud.

"Cows," he said.

"Very good, Harry," Sera teased. "Maybe we'll work on goats next."

"They're quite large," Harry mused. Had he still been sitting in the passenger seat, they were close enough that he could have reached out and touched them. He'd only ever seen cows from the window of the Hogwart's Express. He hadn't realized just how big they were.

Sera opened the glove box and found some tissues there, which she used to clean the fluid dripping copiously from between her legs. She looked at the mess, then threw the tissues out the window. Normally, she wasn't a litterbug, but this . . .

Harry tore his gaze away from the bovines and said, "Tell me what's wrong."

Sera reached down for her clothes and pulled on her bra and shirt before answering. "I told you once that I didn't want to be like my mother, using men. I just feel like . . . I didn't want you to think . . ."

Harry understood. "Sera, what do you want from me?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, immediately defensive.

"What do you want from me?" he repeated.

"I don't want anything from you!" she said hotly. "I just wanted . . . you."

"Then you're different from your mum, aren't you?" he pointed out softly.

She smiled shyly at him. "I guess so." She finished dressing, and Harry took that as his cue to do the same.

"Harry, that was really . . . wonderful."

"I agree," Harry said sincerely.

They smiled at each foolishly for too long. Finally, Sera said, "Want to drive?"

"What?"

"Do you want to drive?" she repeated slowly, enunciating each word carefully. "The truck, I mean."

"I can't drive. I don't have a license."

"Well, that never stopped me, did it?" she pointed out. "Come on. I'll teach you."

Harry looked doubtful, but then he thought about what they'd just done here, and he suddenly felt confidence and happiness greater than he'd ever known surge through him. He could do anything – he was Superman! Plus, he was already sitting in front of the steering wheel, so he figured, why not? "All right," he agreed, grinning like a loon.

Sera reached over him, one hand between his legs to steady herself, and with the other grabbed his seat belt. Half in his lap, she planted a kiss on him that banged his head into the rear window glass, pressing her hand against his cock. Becoming aroused again quickly, Harry moaned into her mouth and rubbed himself against her. When she was satisfied she'd teased him enough to make him interested in repeating their little performance some time, she said, "Better buckle up," and she pulled away and buckled his seat belt. She returned to her side of the vehicle and sat primly in the passenger seat.

"You are an evil woman," Harry muttered, causing Sera's laughter to bubble out. "What do I do?"

"Press the brake. That's the one in the middle. Now pull this toward you and shift into 'drive'." Sera looked out the window. "Good day, ladies," she said to the cows. "I hope you enjoyed the show. Now turn the wheel a little that way and slowly, _slowly_ let up on the brake."

##########

Harry drove smoothly into the driveway, but the truck jerked to a stop when he applied the brakes a little too hard.

"Now put it in park." Sera instructed, and when Harry did, she said "Not bad." Not counting the numerous times Harry had given in to the pull of habit which told him he was completely on the wrong side of the road.

"I had a very good teacher," Harry returned. He still felt full of boundless energy and confidence. He'd never felt this way before, and he couldn't seem to stop smiling.

"Do you think Uncle is back?" Sera reached over and turned the engine off, then pocketed the keys.

"No way to tell. I'd better get inside and get cleaned up. He won't be happy to learn there was an incident in town, or that a local knows who I am. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?"

Sera nodded in agreement. "Maybe you should stop smiling like that. I'm really sorry I put you in the middle of that, Harry."

"Forget about it. I'm glad I was there. And I'm even more glad Madam Mrvichin was there. Now clean up your face and let's get inside before your uncle gets back."

"Hey! Maybe we could fix Uncle up with her!" Sera used the mirror on the visor to scrub at her face with her hand, which she'd wet with her tongue. "She was really pretty. _And _she's a witch."

Even with his increased optimistic look at the world, Harry knew that was a bad idea, and he looked at her as though she was mad. And she was if she thought he was going to go mucking around in Snape's love life. "Sorry, but I like living a little too much to do anything that suicidal." Especially now.

Harry floated as much as he actually walked into the house. When they entered the kitchen, their arms full of grocery bags, Snape was already there, destroying their plan to keep this morning's incident from him. Harry watched Snape search his bloody face, his broken glasses, and his stained shirt. Snape's eyes then went quickly to Serafina, searching her up and down for obvious signs of injury. When he saw none, his eyes went back to Harry, pinning him with the intensity of his question.

Harry gulped down the ball of nervous that had suddenly appeared in the back of his throat. Then the confidence went surging back through him, and he smiled at Snape, a smile that was much brighter than the circumstances warranted.

"Can't you even make a simple trip into a small town without incident, Potter?"

"I sure tried," Harry said happily, setting the bags he was carrying on the counter. "I'm going to change my shirt."

He tried to pass Snape, but was stopped when Snape's hand reached out and grabbed his chin. He turned Harry's face this way and that, examining the damage and the blood, strangely smeared about the mouth. Harry tried to keep his eyes on Snape's, and was quite successful until Snape reached up and touched his nose.

"Ow!" Harry cried, jerking away from Snape. "That hurts!"

"Is it broken?"

"No, I don't think so."

"I'm waiting."

Harry knew what he was waiting for, but before he could speak, Sera jumped in. "It was my fault, Uncle. There was a boy . . . a boy I knew. He . . . well, _he _started it."

"And _you _finished it?" Snape asked, eyeing Harry dubiously.

"Not really," Harry admitted. "But he attacked Serafina. I had to do something!"

Snape looked at his niece again. "Are you hurt, child?"

"No, Uncle. I'm fine."

"I think her finger might be broken, Professor," Harry said.

Snape crossed the kitchen, and Sera held her hand out to him. He examined her hand, front and back, then took out his wand. Harry used his moment of distraction to escape to his own room and change out of his bloodied shirt. He repaired his glasses, and after washing his face, he returned to the kitchen. Sera showed him her hand, which was completely back to normal.

"I trust the one who did this looked worse than you did," Snape said, addressing Harry.

"When I left, he looked like he didn't know what hit him," he said, which was, of course, true, but didn't tell the entire story. Which was just the way Harry wanted it. And still he was smiling.

Snape studied him. Had the boy sustained a concussion? He was acting odd. "Good then," he finally said. "And thank you. If you hadn't been there . . ." Snape didn't finish. Sera had told him a little bit more about what had happened, and he was grateful his niece had been spared anything more traumatic.

Surprised, Harry nodded in response.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

8 _Acceptance_

Sera sat quietly in the corner, reading, (or as quietly as Sera could sit given that she sang along to the music which she listened to while she read) while Harry and Snape worked with the infinitely interesting (to Sera anyway) potion ingredients. Harry had measured and mixed according to Snape's careful instructions, and still the potion wasn't doing what it was meant to do.

"Are you sure you chopped the daisy root fine enough?" Snape asked for the third time.

"For the third time, yes," Harry said, frustrated. This was boring to do once. Doing it three times (and more) was excruciatingly mind-numbing.

"And you added one orange nut?"

"Yes! I added one orange nut! Sir!"

"You must have done something wrong!" Snape insisted.

"I've done exactly what you told me to!"

"Maybe you should try heating up the nut," Sera suggested from the corner without lifting her eyes from her book.

When she became aware by their silence that they were both looking at her, Sera looked up. "Roasting nuts deepens and concentrates their flavor. Maybe it would help with whatever it is you're trying to do over there." Still they looked at her.

Snape tossed an orange nut the size of a table tennis ball in her direction. Sera dropped her book to catch it.

"Do it," he said.

"What? You're going to let me do it?" she asked excitedly. "I've been waiting for this moment forever!" She was so excited she even removed her headphones.

Snape motioned her forward, and Sera moved before he could change his mind. She'd never been this close to his work space before, and she marveled at all of the little jars and boxes and burners and things she had no names for. Snape lit a burner for her. "Proceed."

Sera looked around for something to toast the nut in. "Wait a sec." She raced up the stairs and came back moments later with a small saucepan. She cracked open the nut (it had a shell much like a pecan, but was, appropriately enough, orange instead of tan). The meat of the nut itself was a lighter shade of the same color. Sera sniffed it curiously, expecting it to smell of oranges, but it had no smell at all that she could discern. Snape and Harry watched her, the first with interest and the latter with amusement. Snape gestured to Harry to gather the remaining ingredients, and he set to work chopping more daisy root.

"Chop it first, or toast it first?" she muttered to herself. She decided quickly. "Chop it first. May I?" she asked, gesturing at the knife that lay on a nearby wooden block. When Snape nodded his assent, Sera quickly ran the knife over the nut, chopping it into fine pieces in a matter of moments. These she slipped into the pan and then put the pan to the heat, where she held it, keeping it in constant motion, until she could smell the rich aroma of the nut, almost like coffee with a hint of chocolate. Weird. She liked weird, and she smiled broadly.

"Done," she announced. "Now what?"

"In here," Snape said, indicating a cauldron where Harry had tossed all of the other ingredients while they'd waited. Sera dumped the warm nuts into the concoction while Snape extinguished the flame under the burner with a snap of his fingers. While they all watched and Harry stirred, the liquid in the cauldron turned a bright orange the color of pumpkins. Harry stopped stirring and looked up and smiled at Sera. That was what the first three attempts should have done!

"Did I do it?" Sera asked, looking excitedly at the brew she'd made. It looked like a Halloween punch.

"It seems you have," Snape said thoughtfully as he made notes.

"What does it do?" Sera asked. "It's kind of pretty."

"It kills slugs," Snape said.

"Ewwww!" Sera said, giggling. "So it's not one Harry's going to have to try, then?"

"I certainly hope not!" Harry said, but he looked fearfully at Snape.

Snape only smirked at him. "Well done, Serafina. You seem to have an aptitude for this type of work."

Sera smiled, glowing. Not only had he praised her, he'd used her first name! He hadn't done that once, in all the time he'd been here, always calling her the much more formal "Miss Mallory". Harry noticed how pleased she was and hoped that Snape had, too.

"Can we see what happens if we toast the nut whole?" Sera asked her uncle.

Snape studied her appraisingly, impressed with her curiosity. "That might be enlightening," he agreed.

Harry rolled his eyes. Not again!

Snape noticed Harry's less-than-enthusiastic attitude about continuing in this vein. "Perhaps Mr. Potter would prefer that you take a more active hand in preparing the other ingredients as well," he noted.

Harry smiled with relief at being released from this interminable boredom. "Mr. Potter thinks that is an excellent suggestion, Professor Snape," he agreed.

Sera's smile stretched from ear to ear. "Out of the way, Potter," she said, hip-checking Harry away from the stock of daisy root. She grabbed up the knife he'd been using and began to chop up the root. "Is this right?" she asked her uncle.

Harry edged toward the door.

Snape studied the results of her chopping. "Perfect," he said. "Have you any guess as to what difference it might make if we add the nut whole?" he asked, ever the teacher, finally able to quiz an enthusiastic student.

Harry took another step toward the door and slid out of it as unobtrusively as possible. He bolted as quietly as possible up the basement stairs. Snape noticed his departure but chose to let it go uncommented upon as Sera asked, "Are these daisy roots from the yard? Are they different from the ones you have back home?"

##########

Sera was a regular in the dungeon now, helping out more and more, doing whatever Snape would allow her to. She chopped and mixed and fetched ingredients from the store room, she took notes, she monitored inventory, and she'd begun reading old textbooks Snape had brought with him. She liked this stuff. It was half science, half cooking, both subjects she was fascinated with. The excitement of never knowing when something was going to blow up didn't hurt either. Harry liked her being here as well because the more she did, the less he had to do, though Snape wouldn't allow her to drink anything they were testing, no matter how much she might beg.

Harry also liked her being here because he'd fallen more deeply for her since their relationship had made the turn into the physical arena. Harry had to work hard when in Snape's presence not to let the depth of his feelings for Sera show. He felt as though she'd awoken a beast inside of him that had been lying dormant for years, just waiting to be set free to pursue the pleasures of the flesh. He seemed to think about nothing now but her and how she felt in his arms and how he felt when he was with her and inside her.

And he'd been inside her on several occasions since that first time in the truck, whenever they could steal a moment without fear of detection, mostly at their spot by the lake, but also multiple times in the house, in her bed or his (and on one memorable occasion in the shower), when desire became too great to contain and called for instant release. They knew what they were risking, but they couldn't seem to help themselves. Snape's periodic absences from the farmhouse, although he didn't know it, allowed them comfortable moments together without fear of discovery. He usually was gone only a few hours, but on one occasion, he'd stayed away an entire night. Neither asked where Snape was going when he left them, and Harry assumed that he was simply returning to his home to check on things.

In reality, Snape returned home for several reasons, one of which was to keep in regular contact with Dumbledore to keep him posted on Harry's progress and to keep abreast of what was going on with the Order. He and Dumbledore had made the decision to keep Harry in the dark about what was happening in the world at large – the disappearances, the deaths, the disturbances noticed by and sometimes aimed at Muggles – because there was nothing Harry could do about any of it except worry.

Snape also went back to maintain at least semi-regular contact with the Dark Lord so that he did not come looking for Snape, to keep himself stocked on supplies for his potions work, and yes, to check on his home in his absence. Though the Dark Lord had installed Wormtail there, Snape didn't trust the little rodent-like man and wanted to see for himself that all was well. On one of these visits home, he'd been surprised by a visit from Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix LeStrange, and he'd made a promise that he was afraid he was going to have to keep.

##########

The day she had arbitrarily chosen for her uncle's "birthday" had finally arrived. Sera had been looking forward to this day ever since she'd found the perfect present. She left the workshop early, and retired to the kitchen to make a special dinner and a birthday cake. Once Harry figured out what she was doing, he hoped she wasn't getting her hopes up for a reaction from Snape that he wasn't capable of giving.

"Why are there balloons in the dining room?" Snape asked when he came up for dinner.

"For your birthday, of course," Sera said. "Happy Birthday, Uncle!"

"Oh," Snape said, taken aback. Was today his birthday? He had to think about it. It had been a long time since anyone had noticed his birthday, including himself, but he was quite certain that his birthday was very definitely _not _today.

"But today is not my birthday," he said.

Sera snapped her fingers in pretended disappointment. "Shoot! Well, I had a one in three hundred sixty-five chance of getting it right. Three hundred sixty-six if you were born on leap day." At Snape's bewildered look, Sera laughed and said, "I didn't really think it was your birthday, but I wanted to celebrate it anyway. So consider this your pseudo birthday. Surprise!"

"Do I have to turn a year older?" he asked.

Sera laughed again. "No, absolutely not."

"Well, that's all right then," he said grudgingly.

"Sit, sit," Sera urged. "Dinner is ready. I'll get it. So when _is _your birthday, actually?"

"January," Snape said as he sat. "January nine."

Sera chatted animatedly through the meal. Harry gave Snape credit – he appeared to recognize the effort Sera had made and was trying to be a little less his usual dour self. After dinner, when she brought out the birthday cake, Snape rolled his eyes as unobtrusively as possible.

"Blow out the candles!" Sera urged.

Instead of blowing them out as one would normally do, Snape extinguished them magically. "That'll work, too!" Sera said with a happy laugh.

Sera cut a piece of cake for each of them, but couldn't sit still long enough to take a bite of hers. She bounded to her bedroom and returned with his gift in her hands. She placed it before him and returned to her seat, beaming at him.

"This is from me and Harry," she told him. "We picked it out together."

Snape looked down his nose at Harry, who gave him a little grin.

"Don't worry," Sera said. "It won't explode when you open it."

The corner of Snape's mouth turned up slightly, which was pretty near the closest Harry had ever seen Snape come to managing a real smile. Harry looked at Sera, impressed.

Snape lifted the lid from the box and removed the mortar and pestle. He turned it over to study it carefully. He trailed a finger over the snake on the bottom of the mortar, then set the pestle inside and put both on the table. He was moved by this gift – it had been a long time since anyone had given him a birthday present, even when it really was his birthday. And this one spoke to him on so many levels. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to speak, but he cleared his throat to try. "Where did you get this?"

"From a store in town. Do you like it?"

He looked at it again, then back up at her. "It's exquisite. As are you, my dear."

Tears sprung to Sera's eyes, and she just couldn't help it. She jumped out of her chair and ran to Snape and hugged him. Snape stiffened at first at the unfamiliar contact, but then patted her arm affectionately. He would not look at Harry and tried to pretend that he wasn't there. After a moment, he said, "Thank you, child. Potter," he said, in acknowledgment that Harry had had something to do with this.

Snape stood up and gently pushed Sera away. "I have work to do. Thank you for . . . everything."

He turned abruptly and left them.

Harry remained where he was, shaking his head in wonder at her. If he wasn't mistaken, he'd seen tears in Snape's eyes when he'd left the room. She'd really gotten through to him. "You are amazing, you know that?"

Sera shrugged as one tear slipped down a cheek. "Didn't you ever just want to go up to him and hug him? I've never seen anyone who looked more like they needed a hug!"

"Have I never told you about the killing curse?" Harry joked.

##########

"Know what today is?" Sera asked both of them at breakfast one morning.

"Friday," Harry guessed.

"July four," Snape said.

"You're both right, but Uncle is more right," Sera announced. "It's the Fourth of July!"

"So?" Harry asked.

"It's Independence Day!"

"What's so independent about it?" Harry wanted to know.

"Don't they teach you anything at this school you go to?" Sera asked, appalled.

"Apparently not about this. Do you know what she's talking about, Professor?" Harry asked.

Snape looked down his nose at Harry. "On July 4, 1776, the Declaration of Independence was adopted by the Second Continental Congress."

"Very good!" Sera said, pleased. "It's the day we declared our independence from you blokes! You can see why we'd want to celebrate that, I'm sure. There will be fireworks in town tonight, after dark. You're both welcome to go with me."

"Thank you for the invitation," said Snape. "But I'll pass. Potter, you may attend if you wish."

Harry smiled at Sera. "I'd love to go. I haven't seen a good fireworks show since Fred and George chased old Umbridge out of the Great Hall!" That was one of the few happy memories he had surrounding Dolores Umbridge, and his smile grew wider at the thought of it.

Even Snape saw the humor in that, and a corner of his mouth turned up. He hadn't been present for that particular spectacle, but he'd certainly heard all about it, and he was quite sorry he'd missed it.

"I'd love to hear that story," Sera said, returning his smile. "You can tell me all about it tonight."

Harry did tell her, as they sat in the back of the pickup on a blanket Sera had spread there, watching the colors light up the night as locals celebrated the birth of their country. Sera had chosen a secluded spot, high on a hill, where she knew from past experience the view would be exceptional and they'd be alone. While the lights blazed above them, they made their own fireworks on the blanket in the back of the truck.

##########

Dumbledore paid Harry a surprise visit in mid-July, requesting his assistance with a mysterious mission. He disapparated himself and Harry to a small town, where they met a very strange and somewhat unlikable fellow introduced to Harry as Horace Slughorn. Dumbledore wanted Slughorn to return to a teaching post at Hogwart's, though Harry wasn't sure why he'd want this particular person for the job. Harry assumed Dumbledore wanted Slughorn to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, the only post he knew to be open, and he once again questioned his mentor's judgment in regard to his choice for a teacher.

Harry pretty much thought Dumbledore walked on water, but when it came to choosing Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, he had proven himself more than a little deficient. The first one Harry had had to endure was the timid, stuttering Professor Quirrell, who had been revealed to be a traitor for the dark side before being snuffed to ash.

Harry's second year, he'd had to suffer through that flaming egomaniac Gilderoy Lockhart, who before the year was out had been proved a giant fraud and had had his memory wiped clean. He was still in St. Mungo's as far as Harry knew.

His third DADA teacher had actually been great. Unfortunately, Remus Lupin was a werewolf, and job opportunities were few and far between for his kind.

Fourth year had brought him into contact with Alastor Moody, or who everyone thought was Alastor Moody. He'd turned out to be Death Eater Barty Crouch, Jr., disguised as Moody thanks to polyjuice potion, who'd tried his damnedest to sacrifice Harry to Voldemort.

And don't even get Harry started on Dolores Jane Umbridge, his fifth year DADA teacher.

Word must have gotten out that Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers never lasted more than a year, and no one else (besides Severus Snape) was interested in the post. Harry wasn't sure why Dumbledore had needed him, or what exactly it was he'd done, but Slughorn had agreed by the end of their visit to take Dumbledore up on his offer.

Dumbledore returned Harry to the farmhouse but did not stay to visit. The quick trip had left Harry with two impressions: 1) he didn't much like Professor Slughorn, as he must now call him, and wasn't looking forward to classes with him; and 2) he much preferred to travel by broomstick.

The following day, Harry's O.W.L. results arrived, and he was quite pleased with the marks he had achieved. He handed them to Snape so that he could see Harry had achieved an E in Potions. Snape only nodded in acknowledgment.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

9 _Remembrance_

Two weeks later, Harry awoke on his birthday happier than he'd ever been on a previous birthday. His eleventh birthday had been great, the day he'd found out he was a wizard, but today he was sixteen, about to leave childhood behind, perched on the edge of manhood. He lay in bed for a time after waking, mulling over his life, thinking about all that he had to be grateful for on this day.

He was alive. There had been moments in his not-too-distant past when his ability to continue to make that statement had been in doubt.

He wasn't with the Dursleys – it was always a blessing whenever he could say that.

His lessons with Snape were actually going quite well. The two continued to butt heads regularly, but they were getting a lot accomplished. Harry's apparition lessons had begun, and he'd finally been able to disapparate himself from one spot in the basement to another, and then from inside the basement to outside the house. Though he still preferred broomsticks, he could see where the ability to disapparate might come in handy.

Since the imaginarius had been modified to work with Harry's overactive imagination, Harry had actually come to enjoy his sessions beneath it. It was very much like being inside one of the video games that Sera was always telling him about, and they were actually a fun way to practice thinking on his feet, learning to decide quickly whether a new situation presented a threat, and reacting quickly and appropriately if it did.

The potions work was still boring, but Snape seemed happy with the progress being made, and at least he got to spend more time with Sera while working on potions.

And then there was Sera. He didn't know what he would have done this summer without her. If he'd had to endure Snape's presence only for weeks on end, he wasn't sure they would both have survived (and he had no real illusions about who wouldn't have made it through). Without even knowing she was doing it, she'd helped him so much in the first few days he'd known her to work through some of the issues that had burdened him for so long.

Yes, Sera had been a Godsend, and he wondered for a moment about what was going to happen to her when this summer ended only a month from now. He felt a pang in his heart at the separation he feared was coming, but he pushed those thoughts away to be dealt with another time. Today was a happy day.

Stretching fully from corner to opposite corner in the double bed, Harry decided to get up and find her. Starting the day with her smile was a ritual he'd quickly gotten used to.

But he couldn't find her anywhere, and he was finally reduced to making his own breakfast, after which he went down to start his lessons, half hoping that maybe Snape knew it was his birthday and would give him the day off. "Good morning, sir," he said pleasantly when he arrived in the basement classroom.

Snape grunted in response, but didn't look up from what he was doing. Harry heard Sera's footsteps overhead, and he couldn't help the smile that lit up his face. He turned away so that Snape wouldn't see if he looked up.

Snape had two cauldrons already bubbling away. He'd obviously been busy for a while. "Sit," he instructed, and Harry did so.

Sera came tripping (almost literally) down the stairs. "Good morning!" she sang. "Happy Birthday, Harry!"

"Thank you," he said, returning her smile. "Where have you been?"

"Out," was all she said. "What are we working on today?"

"This," Snape said, giving one of the cauldrons a final stir, "is a voice potion. We're not testing it, though, as it's been in use for centuries."

"What does it do?" Sera asked.

"When you drink it, it will allow you to alter your voice to imitate whomever you picture in your mind," Snape explained.

"Cool!" Sera said.

"Potter," Snape said, filling a cup from the cauldron and handing it to Harry.

Harry wondered why they were doing this if the potion had been around for ages, but he figured his wasn't to wonder why. His was to drink and (hopefully) not die. He drank the contents of the cup.

"Now picture someone in your mind," Snape instructed.

Harry closed his eyes and pictured Dumbledore, then opened his mouth (and eyes) to speak. "I am Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard in all the world." Harry smiled in amazement. If he hadn't said it himself, he would have sworn the headmaster was in the room with them. "Wicked!" he said, still in the older man's voice.

"Do someone else!" Sera urged.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making. However, for those select few . . . who possess the predisposition . . . I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death." Of course, the voice emanating from Harry's mouth now was that of Snape. "And you thought," Harry stopped, pictured his own face in his mind, and continued in his own voice, "And you thought I never paid attention in your class."

A corner of Snape's mouth curved up, and he nodded in acknowledgment. He filled another cup and handed it to his niece. "Serafina?"

Sera's eyes widened. "You're going to let me?! Really?!"

Snape pulled it back. "Well, if you'd rather not . . ."

"No! No, I do! Giveitome!" she said excitedly.

He did, and Sera drank it down quickly, before he could change his mind. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. "Serafina Mallory, you will be the death of me," she cackled in an old woman's voice.

"Your grandmother?" Harry guessed.

Sera nodded and giggled. "This is so cool!"

She, too, now pictured Snape and began to sing. "She's a very kinky girl, the kind you don't take home to mother. That girl is pretty wild now. She's a super freak, super freak, she's super freaky yow!"

Sera was dancing around as she sang, looking somewhat like a giant chicken, and Harry couldn't help it – the laughter burst from his mouth before he could stop it. He looked sideways at Snape, to gauge his reaction. Snape's mouth was twitching, but from repressed laughter or about-to-be-spoken rebuke Harry couldn't tell.

"Enough, silly girl," Snape finally said. "Don't make me regret this."

"Sorry," Sera said, trying to appear contrite though her eyes shown with the spirit she just couldn't suppress. She giggled when her voice continued to sound like Snape's. "Oh my God!" she said. "Can I sing like this?"

"Obviously," Snape said drily.

"I'm gonna be Whitney!" she announced excitedly.

"I don't know who or what this 'Whitney' is, but please take it upstairs," Snape suggested.

Sera did, skipping and singing into her room. They heard the door shut, but they could still hear her singing at the top of her lungs.

Harry was glad when she'd gone. A conversation where both voices were Snape's was highly disconcerting, but he smiled affectionately. "She's slightly mental, that one."

"Runs in the family," Snape noted, and Harry's mouth fell open. Snape had made a joke! A near-smile and a joke, all in the same day. Harry steadied himself on the table, sure he'd felt the earth tip slightly off its axis.

"Drink this," Snape said, handing him another cup.

Harry drank it, then asked, "What was that, Professor?"

"An antidote for the first potion," Snape explained. He filled yet another cup and held it out to Harry, but he didn't let go when Harry tried to take it, and their eyes met over the cup. "This," said Snape, "is a memory potion. It allows one to access memories which, for whatever reason, one might not be able to on their own."

Harry was puzzled. "Like if you had amnesia, sir?"

Snape nodded. "Perhaps. Or if you were subconsciously blocking a traumatic memory, or if . . . you were too young when the memories were formed to recall them later in life."

"Like when you were a baby?" Harry whispered, and Snape saw the understanding dawn in Harry's eyes.

Snape nodded and released the cup to him. "Take it upstairs. Into your room." Snape knew this was likely to be an emotional journey, and he suspected that privacy would be called for.

Harry now understood why Snape had allowed Sera to drink the voice potion, violating the number one rule he had set down when Sera started assisting him with his work. Snape had let Sera drink the potion to otherwise occupy her so Harry would be alone for his trip down memory lane. He'd probably fed it first to Harry only to make sure he'd brewed it properly and it wasn't going to kill anyone.

The kindness of this act was so unlike the Snape he knew that Harry stared at him for a moment, wondering if there was more here than met the eye, if this was some sort of trick. His mistrust for Snape was deeply imbedded and wouldn't allow him to believe that there wasn't some ulterior motive here.

Snape stared back, looking past the mistrust, knowing that he'd earned it. "Once you drink it," he said, "you'll have an hour, maybe two. Just focus on what you want to recall, and the memories will come. Go," he said when Harry didn't move. "When you're finished, come back down. There's one more thing I want you to do today."

Harry's feet moved as though on their own. He stopped on the stairs and looked back down at Snape, finally realizing just what a gift Snape was giving him. There was so much he wanted to say, but he seemed incapable of forming words. Snape nodded his understanding and turned away.

Harry went into his room and shut the door. Sera was singing loudly in a man's voice now, something about being born in the USA, but Harry barely noticed. He sat on the bed and stared into the cup, still not completely sure it wasn't something dangerous. Snape hadn't tried to kill him yet, Harry reasoned with himself, why do it now, on his birthday?

Harry shrugged and tipped the cup up, drinking the contents completely, making sure he had every drop. He set the cup down and lay on the bed, closing his eyes.

And he let the memories come. His birth, and the joy and awe on his parents' faces as they looked down at him and held him in their arms, kissing him and nuzzling his neck, inhaling his sweet baby aroma. His mother singing lullabies to him as she rocked and fed him at her breast, stroking his cheek with one finger held tightly by a tiny baby fist. Through his baby eyes, Harry looked up wonderingly at his mother, drinking in every feature of her beautiful face, praying that when the potion wore off that the memories wouldn't fade with it.

He grew up with his parents – their joy when he rolled over for the first time; their delight when he sat up unassisted; their faces beaming at him when he pulled himself to his feet and began to cruise around, holding onto furniture, chasing a calico cat, whose tail always seemed to be just out of reach; his father's pride at his son riding a toy broomstick that rose only inches from the floor so that the baby's chubby toes skimmed the floor as he hovered, laughing.

He saw the numerous friends who visited their happy home and held him and played with him, and he recognized many of them – Sirius, Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, and even Dumbledore a couple of times. In the final month, the visitors all but stopped, leaving just Harry with his mum and dad, still happy, but with an underlying tension.

Harry knew how this ended, and he hoped that if the potion hadn't worn off that he could stop this movie running through his head. He tried to slow down the progression of the memories, just in case he couldn't stop it, but they seemed to have a pace of their own.

Harry opened his eyes, trying to stop the memory he knew was coming next, but it continued. He was in his cot, standing and holding onto the side, his little legs bouncing with joy as his mother entered his room. She'd just put him down for bed and left him, but she'd come back almost immediately. He'd heard a shout from his father and a noise downstairs, and he wasn't sure what that was about, but it didn't really matter, because Mummy was back, and he just loved his mummy, hence the happy bouncing. He held his arms out to her, inviting her to pick him up once again.

But something was wrong – even one-year old Harry could sense it, and he stopped smiling. He watched his mother as she quickly placed a chair in front of the door and threw some boxes on top of it. The older Harry, watching from a distant time and place, could see from the look on her face that she knew it wasn't enough, that it was pointless to try to hold whatever was coming back with inconsequential furniture and empty boxes, and her shoulders slumped.

Now she picked him up and hugged him fiercely. The door to his room opened, noisier than normal because of the hasty obstructions thrown against it. Someone entered his room, and baby Harry knew instinctively that it wasn't Daddy. Mummy put him back down into his cot quickly, almost dropping him, and turned her back on him, her arms spread wide, as though shielding him from someone or something. Scared now, Harry stretched his arms out to her. "Mumma," he said. "Up."

"Not Harry!" his mother said, imploring whoever it was. "Not Harry! Please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl," said the strange man, his voice high and cold. "Stand aside now."

"Not Harry! Please no! Take me! Kill me instead," his mother tried again, but it was apparent that her pleas were having no effect on whoever was there to hurt them.

"This is my last warning," the man said.

"Not Harry," she moaned as the stranger raised his arm. "Please, have mercy . . . have mercy." She was crying hard now, likely realizing that there was nothing she could do, no way to prevent him from killing her and then her precious baby boy. James already lay dead downstairs, she was sure of that. Soon, it would be over for all of them. "Not Harry! Not Harry! Please! I'll do anything!"

Then there was a burst of green light so bright it hurt Harry's eyes, and his mother screamed and fell to the floor. Harry could now see the man who had changed his world from one of love and comfort to one of fear and loneliness.

The strange man approached Harry's cot and pointed a wand directly at the baby's face. Harry began to cry now, because he was afraid, and his Mummy was lying on the floor, and his Daddy wasn't coming, and there was a strange man in his room, a man who made him feel terror like he'd never known was possible in his brief, protected life. In his room so many miles and years away, the sixteen year-old Harry cried as well, without making a sound.

The scary man smiled an evil smile and raised his wand and said the two words that would mark Harry and change his life forever. Baby Harry screamed as the force of the spell and the bright green light knocked him backward into the cot, searing a pain into his forehead.

Though some force of the spell hit Harry hard enough to knock him down and carve a lightning bolt into his skin, most of it was repelled by an unseen shield and flung back at its caster, blowing a hole into the roof of the house when it did. Baby Harry didn't know what had happened to Riddle when the spell rebounded on him, because he'd been crying too hard and was too scared to look. When he next looked through the bars of his cot, many minutes later, he was alone.

He didn't know how long he sat there, waiting for he knew not what, because a baby's sense of time is out of proportion to a more cognitive being's. He could see his mother on the floor, and although he called to her from time to time, she wouldn't come to him. He thought perhaps Daddy might come, but he never saw his father again. He sat for a time staring at the stars twinkling brightly in the night sky, as though unaware that an unspeakable tragedy had occurred below them.

At last, someone did come, someone very large who was a stranger to baby Harry, but whom the older Harry was very familiar with. Though the giant man was frightening because of his size and all of that facial hair, Harry whimpered a little but went willingly enough when Hagrid picked him up because he was scared and hungry and he simply needed _someone_. The big man was surprisingly gentle, cradling the baby carefully in his arms, turning the boy's head away from his mother's body (apparently not realizing that Harry had been looking at her since she'd fallen there), and murmuring softly to him that he was all right now.

"Mumma," Harry said, stretching one chubby arm out to her, one last time, hoping that maybe this time she'd get up and come to him. She did not, and they left the room.

After vague memories of being bundled tightly and traveling at great speeds with a great deal of noise, Harry was now looking up at his aunt and uncle. They looked back at him as though he were a rare species of very unpleasant bug. Harry tried talking to them in the baby babble that his parents had so loved and encouraged, but these odd, mean people only sneered at him and turned away to read a letter, holding it as though it were contaminated.

Harry had seen enough. He had plenty of bad memories of his time with the Dursleys. He didn't need to add any to that particular store. "Please," he moaned. "Please make it stop." And whether because he'd ask it to or because the potion finally and coincidentally wore off, it mercifully did.

Harry removed his glasses and rolled over so that his face was buried in his pillow and cried like he might never stop. His mother, murdered before his eyes. Voldemort's attempt to kill him. Before today, he'd had only flashes of green light and the memory of a scream, enough to provide food for his fertile imagination. Now he could see all of the details in their most minute form.

Now that he had the gift of knowing, he wondered whether it really was a gift. Lost in the fresh pain and grief was the fact that the remaining memories he'd been given were wonderful, soul-sustaining things he'd be able to take out and treasure whenever he needed them. That realization would come later. Now he just hurt too much, and the hurt was so large he didn't know how his body could contain it. The agony threatened to engulf him and burn him up.

In the end, Harry doused it with his tears. Finally spent, he lay staring at the ceiling, breathing in large, cleansing breaths. He knew he should get up. He knew he was supposed to go back downstairs, but he couldn't face anyone, not yet.

After a few more minutes, after he felt some semblance of self-control return, he sat up, rubbing his reddened eyes. He knew he looked as though he'd been crying, and he peeked into the hallway to be sure it was empty before venturing into the bathroom.

Harry splashed cold water onto his face and studied his reflection in the mirror. This morning had changed him. The many happy memories were warring with the one bad. Despite their insignificant number, the bad seemed to have more weight than all the good combined, and they were pulling him down, insistently and inexorably.

There was a tap on the door, and Sera said, "Harry, you missed lunch."

He cleared his throat. "I'm not hungry."

"Are you okay?" She could tell something was wrong from the sound of his voice.

"Fine," he said, as convincingly as possible. "Just not hungry."

"If you change your mind, there's sandwiches in the fridge."

"Thanks." He waited until he was sure she was gone, ran a hand through his already-tousled hair, and went back down to face Snape.

Harry couldn't look at Snape, unsure how to feel about him at this moment. On the one hand, Snape had provided him with a bank of memories of his parents that he never would have had but for Snape's memory potion. For that he was thankful. On the other hand, he'd given him new fodder for his nightmares. For that he was afraid. So he said nothing, not sure that even if he had the words he'd be able to get them out without crying again.

But Snape saw. He saw the reddened, glazed eyes, and he heard the thick breath that spoke of torrential tears, and he knew. He'd tried, he'd _really _tried, to give Harry only enough potion to get him through the pleasant part of his first year and not enough to take him through his parents' deaths and the attempt on his own life. But now he knew he'd failed. And he felt terrible, though Potter would probably not believe that.

Fortunately, he'd planned for this contingency. He cleared his throat. "There will be no further lessons today. There's one thing more I want you to do. Outside." He gestured to the basement door which led into the backyard.

Numb, Harry followed him out. Snape stopped beside a broomstick.

"Is it . . . Can I really . . .?" Harry asked, not daring to hope.

"Yes, it's been enchanted," Snape told him. "You've got one hour. Stay over the property boundaries, and you won't be seen." Snape had spent some time this morning casting protective spells around the property so no one, from the air or the ground, would see a teenaged boy hot-rodding around on a broomstick in the sky. "It's not a Firebolt, I know, but . . ."

"It's perfect," Harry assured him, and it was. "Up!" he ordered, and the broom leapt into his hand, as anxious as he to take to the sky.

Without a word, Harry jumped on, kicked off, and left the ground. He circled the house three times before launching himself through the trees.

Sera had come out to stand beside Snape in time to see Harry's last revolution around the house and his flight into the woods. She watched him go, amazed.

"Do you fly, too?" she asked her uncle.

"Infrequently. Not really since I was a boy," Snape said, watching the spot where Harry had disappeared. "And never like him."

"He's good?" she asked. She had nothing to judge by.

"Exceptional. The most natural I've ever seen. Intuitive, as though he and the broomstick were one."

Harry soared and banked and climbed and dove, enjoying the familiar feeling of freedom he got when flying. He zipped crazily through the trees, never worried he'd crash. The way he felt right now, physical pain would be almost a blessed relief. Besides, he was the wind, and the wind never crashed. After a time, he climbed higher than he'd ever flown and circled lazily, looking below him for the house, but he couldn't see it for the trees.

As he hovered in the soothing warmth of the sun, Harry tried to purge his mind and his soul of everything. Without a sound around him, not even the twittering of birds, it was easy to imagine that he was an empty vessel – soulless, boneless, weightless. When he felt himself devoid of any emotion and thought, he allowed himself to partition the memories he'd just experienced, sorting through the happy ones as though they were playing cards. The realization that he could take them out, touch them, relive them, that they were _permanent_, struck him, and he felt a sense of peace fill him to the very ends of his fingers, his toes, even his unruly hair.

The bad memories were still there, like a small lead ball in the pit of his stomach. Harry felt that weight shift inside him, then depart his body. That weight, which a short time ago had threatened to overwhelm him, was leaving him now, floating higher and higher, away from him and toward the sun, as though borne on an escaped helium balloon. Harry could picture that in his mind, and he watched the balloon (it was red) drift toward the sun, closer and closer, until it must surely have burst in the immense heat. He convinced himself that, very faintly, he could hear the pop.

And it was then he realized exactly what Snape had done. Not only had his nemesis given him back the only wonderful, loving memories that existed from his childhood, he'd given Harry access to a broomstick, the only means Harry could have found that would have allowed him to dispel any bad memories that might have tagged along with the good.

Why had Snape done this? Snape, who had treated him so coldly and even downright meanly since the very moment they'd met. What would have possessed him to give the son of a man he'd thoroughly detested for such a long time, even after his death, such a precious gift? He wished it wasn't the case, but with Snape, motivation was called into question with everything, even something this pleasant, especially something this pleasant. Was there an ulterior motive? Was there some sinister purpose here that Harry couldn't grasp?

Harry searched for meaning, for something that made sense, but the only thing he came up with was that he now had a large stock of happy memories with which to produce a patronus, should he have the need. But Harry had proven himself capable of producing a patronus even without his childhood memories, so he doubted that was it. And although Snape of course did not know it, the memories that Harry had made with Snape's niece had made him capable, he was convinced, of producing a whole herd of patronuses (patroni?) at once.

Should he ask Snape, or should he simply be grateful for Snape's largesse, whatever the reason? The gift was worth more than the motive, he finally decided, and he would simply accept it and be grateful. And if there was a price to pay, some day, he would accept that as well, and he would still be grateful.

Harry pointed his broomstick down and began to descend at a sharp angle. There was something he needed to do, before he thought too much about it, before he could change his mind or lose his nerve. He made a beeline for the house, gliding smoothly to a stop beside Snape, who had remained rooted to the spot. Sera had gotten bored and gone inside a while ago. Harry dismounted.

"You're back early," Snape informed him. "You have ten minutes remaining."

Unprepared for it, Harry's hug nearly knocked Snape over. He fought the slight loss of balance and his natural aversion to physical contact and put an arm around Harry's shoulder and patted him briskly.

For a brief moment, Snape allowed himself to think that, if only things had turned out differently, this could be his and Lily's son. Oh, he wouldn't look like that cursed Potter, of course, but he'd be bright and kind and loyal and talented, just like this boy was. But life had taken a different turn, and this boy was the offspring of a man who had never wasted an opportunity to torment him, who had taken from him the only thing that Snape had ever loved, and who had given his only son too many physical characteristics for Snape not to see the father every time he looked at the son.

Harry held on tightly for a moment, then let go and stepped back. "Thank you," he said simply.

"Don't mention it," Snape said, trying to regain his usual crustiness. "I mean that, Potter. _Don't _mention it."

Harry nodded his understanding. This was over, and they would never speak of it again. But he was glad he'd showed Snape just how much his present had meant. Ending an awkward moment of silence, Harry ducked inside, and Snape followed moments later.

##########

Sera had outdone herself with Harry's birthday supper, and as a special treat, she'd made him a treacle tart instead of a birthday cake. It wasn't as good as those he'd had at Hogwart's, but he wouldn't have hurt her feelings for anything in the world, and he told her it was better than anything he'd ever tasted, and he thanked her profusely.

"Now it's time for my present!" Sera announced as soon as the dishes had been cleared away. "Wait here." She hurried down the hall, and returned moments later with a shoebox which she set in front of Harry.

He smiled at her. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"Just open it!" she said, bouncing excitedly. "Hurry!"

"All right," he said, and he removed the top from the box and peered inside. A small orange tabby kitten had been sleeping in the box until light poured in. Now it opened it's green eyes and yawned up at Harry.

Harry looked at Sera, his own eyes wide. She'd known how much the experience with the kitten/monster had bothered him. They'd talked about it more than once. He felt as though the kitten was a metaphor for all of the good in the world (like Cedric and Sirius) who had been destroyed in the fight against evil. And _he_ had been the one to destroy it (as, he felt, he had done with both Cedric and Sirius). So this helpless, achingly cute little kitten represented the horrendous things that Harry was capable of bringing down on those around him.

And she was offering it up to him, a sacrificial lamb of sorts, trusting him to care for it and keep it safe.

Sera's smile had begun to falter when Harry didn't speak or make a move to take the kitten out of the box. Maybe she'd made a mistake. "I can take it back if you don't like it."

Snape sat motionless, only his eyes moving to follow this exchange that had so much undercurrent that even he couldn't pretend it wasn't there. He felt uneasy, but then told himself it was only natural that the two youngsters would become friends, given the circumstances.

Sera's words seemed to rouse Harry. "No. No! Are you kidding? I love it!" he assured her, and he reached into the box with one hand and removed the kitten. It came without protest. He studied it for a moment, as if half fearing that it would begin to transform in front of their eyes into something nightmarish.

"You can have it at school, right?" Sera asked, still anxious. "You told me your friend has a cat."

"Yes, we can have cats at school," Harry assured her.

Snape thought about correcting him. The school rules clearly stated that students could have an owl OR a rat OR a cat. OR, not AND. But he suspected that Dumbledore would make exception for Harry. It certainly wouldn't be the first time the Headmaster looked the other way while his favorite student skirted the rules.

Harry set the kitten on the table and rubbed its ears, making it purr loudly and butt its head against his hand for more. "It's lovely," he said, and he meant it. "Thank you."

"She," Sera corrected. "It's a girl."

The kitten yawned and began to wander around the table, sniffing at spare crumbs, sneezing when it inhaled one into its nose. Sera rolled a ball across the table, and the kitten pounced on it, somersaulting to the edge until it tumbled into Snape's lap. He picked the kitten up by the scruff of the neck and lifted it until it was level with his face. The kitten hung there placidly, studying Snape in return.

Finally, Snape set the kitten back on the table with a small snort, maybe of amusement, maybe of disdain. He rose and said, "Thank you, Serafina. That was a fine meal, as usual," and he left them.

"What are you going to call her?" Sera asked, placing the kitten on the floor and sending her after the ball again.

"I dunno," Harry said, watching her. "She's got nerves of steel, though. Did you see her stare your uncle down? We'll wait a while. The right name will come."

##########

It had been a wonderful, though emotionally tumultuous day, and Harry didn't want it to end. He had never had a better birthday, of that he was sure. He tried to sleep, but he lay in bed a long time thinking about the day and about his life, and finally, he got out of bed, grabbed the scrapbook that Hagrid had given him, and went out onto the sofa. He reclined there and began flipping through the photos, supplementing the images there with the memories he now possessed. His new kitten had followed him out and now lay curled up asleep in a patch of moonlight.

He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until the nightmare began. The tiny part of him that clung to consciousness tried to fight it off, not wanting to end such a perfect day on such a bad note, but he was powerless to stop it. The memory of his mother's death, heightened now by exquisite detail, began to play before his eyes, each frame now moving in slow motion. He moaned and thrashed on the sofa, willing his baby self to do something to save her this time.

Before the dream could progress to its terrible conclusion, Harry felt the images being smoothed away, and he awoke with a start, his breathing shallow and rapid. He'd fallen asleep with his glasses on, and although there was no light source in the room (he didn't remember having turned off the lamp), he could see by the light of the moon streaming through the window Sera kneeling beside him, her hand on his face, soothing, quieting.

"You were having a nightmare," she whispered.

He licked his dry lips. "Mmm," he agreed. "Not any more."

Sera leaned in to kiss him, and every nerve in his body woke up and responded immediately. He liked kissing her, a lot, and he was disappointed when she pulled away. His disappointment turned to alarm when she pulled her nightshirt over her head, revealing that she wore nothing beneath.

"Sera, no!" he whispered. "If your uncle should come up here . . ."

"Shhh," she said, placing a finger on his lips. "He won't if we're quiet."

Harry could see her firm young breasts, seemingly glowing in the moonlight, and he wanted so badly to touch her. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," he said, his voice hoarse with the wanting.

Sera kissed him again, erasing all thoughts but one from his mind. He pulled her down on top of him, and she stretched out along his length. He hurriedly threw the quilt over them, then allowed his hands to roam about at will.

"Oh God, Harry!" she gasped in his ear. She could feel his yearning for her, and she couldn't wait any longer. "Now, please!" she urged him.

In one smooth motion, Harry rolled them both so that he was on top of her and reached down to free himself from his pajamas, all logic and reason gone in the face of this primal need. When he found her with one sure movement, he knew he was home. Moments later, both of them sweating and panting, he lost himself inside the solid heat of her core. The lamp by his head flickered on, then off, on, then off, and he bit down, hard, on Sera's shoulder to keep from crying out. He felt Sera's fingernails dig into his back in return. Finally spent, he collapsed all of his weight on top of her.

"Bloody hell!" he said into her ear, his mind incapable of forming a more coherent sentence.

"Blimey," she agreed. They lay there for a while, catching their breath. "Happy Birthday, Harry," Sera finally said, kissing him on the mouth again.

Amazingly, Harry felt himself beginning to respond to her again. "I think maybe you've created a monster," he whispered. Not for the first time, Harry wondered if this hunger would be with him constantly now. Might be a little difficult to explain to Snape, should the monster rear its troublesome head at an inopportune time.

"My monster likes your monster," she assured him, her breath hot and moist in his ear. "Maybe your monster can come out and play with my monster again some time. But right now, you're squashing me."

"Oh, sorry," Harry said, and he lifted himself up so she could scoot out from under him. She lay half beside him, half on top of him, in the crook of his arm, her chin on his shoulder, looking at him, and she felt so right there.

"I love you, Harry Potter," she said solemnly.

Her declaration startled him, and he wasn't sure what to do with it. "You're only saying that so I'll sleep with you again," he joked to give himself time.

"Don't do that," she said, and he was instantly sorry at the tears that jumped to her eyes. "It's not a joke. Not to me."

"I'm sorry. I know it's not a joke." He kissed both her eyes, chasing the tears away. "I love you, too, Serafina Mallory. Have for a while. Maybe forever. I guess I thought you knew. I thought girls were supposed to be so intuitive?"

She smiled at him and lay her head on his shoulder. He knew he should protest, that they should both go to bed before they got caught. But she felt so good next to him, and he was, finally, so tired. He wondered vaguely if anyone besides his parents had ever told him that they loved him, and he thought not. He knew that Ron and Hermione loved him, and Hagrid and Dumbledore, but none of them had ever actually said the words. He knew the nightmare wouldn't come back now, not with her here.

_Now _this birthday was perfect, and he slowly drifted off to sleep with her in his arms.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

10 _Discovery_

Harry awoke on the sofa in the morning, aware immediately of two things, in this order: Snape was standing in the living room staring at him; and Sera was nowhere to be seen. He sat up quickly, put on his glasses, and searched surreptitiously around him for any sign that might reveal what had happened on this sofa last night. God, if Sera had left her underwear – wait, she hadn't been wearing underwear. He saw nothing, and it was only then that he began to breathe.

"Birthday celebration get out of hand?" Snape asked.

Harry's heartbeat quickened. Maybe he'd missed something. "What do you mean, sir?" he asked with all the innocence he could muster.

"You passed out on the sofa."

Harry collapsed back with relief. "Oh, yeah. I guess I did."

"Well, get up. The fun times are over. We're to begin occlumency lessons again today. And you _will _learn how to block others from accessing your thoughts if it's the last thing you do."

Harry's blood ran cold, the heat from last night's encounter now only a distant memory, and he thought that maybe it just might be.

##########

Harry had no opportunity to explain to Sera why he was so nervous he couldn't eat, as Snape was sitting at the table with them. He tried to smile reassuringly at her, but she could tell something was really wrong. By the time breakfast was over, she felt like crying, convinced he was having second thoughts about his declaration of love last night, and she was glad Harry didn't stick around to help with the cleanup.

Harry felt a dark cloud hovering over him as he walked down the basement stairs. If he was unsuccessful in blocking Snape's attempts to penetrate his thoughts, there was no way Snape would not learn about Harry's relationship with Sera, probably including graphic details of their encounter last night, still fresh on Harry's mind. Pleasant as those thoughts might be for Harry, he doubted that Snape would be anything but angry. More likely furious – the murderous rage type of furious. What was he going to do? He'd never really been able to keep Snape out of his head when he'd tried to get in in the past, and he had no real hope that he could do so now. He resolved to try, and if the effort failed, to run like hell before Snape could really grasp what he was seeing.

"Prepared, Potter?" Snape asked, his wand up and at the ready.

Harry closed his eyes, his wand in his hand but pointing at the floor, knowing it wasn't his wand he needed. He had to do this from inside his head. He pictured a black curtain, drawing down before his eyes, closing off his thoughts to all. He nodded and opened his eyes.

"Legillimens!" Snape said. Harry saw a corner of the black curtain flutter, as though someone were trying to lift it from the other side, but he focused everything he had on keeping the curtain down, and it stayed in place.

He could tell when Snape stopped trying, as though the force that was trying to enter the curtained off area had retreated. He realized Snape was grimacing, as though the effort had been more than a little painful for him, which Harry certainly hoped it had. He himself was only breathing a little harder than normal. The effort needed to keep the curtain in place was minimal. This was much better than finding himself on the floor on his hands and knees, as all other occlumency sessions with Snape had seemed to end.

"Impressive, Potter," Snape noted, and he really did appear to be impressed. When they'd last attempted this, Potter had had little to no ability to stop Snape from entering whatever pathway in the boy's mind he'd wanted to follow, apart from the rather insidious method of a shield charm. And now he was completely blocking access. What had changed?

Harry smiled weakly, more in relief than for any other reason. He'd done it! He'd kept Snape out of his thoughts! Maybe all he'd needed all along was the proper motivation in the form of the specter of his own imminent and painful death.

"Legillimens!" Snape tried to catch Harry unaware, but Harry had seen it coming and got the curtain up in time. This time, it wasn't even an effort to keep the curtain in place, and Harry realized that just the fact that it was there was all the protection he needed. When he also realized that if he just left the curtain there at all times that no one (presumably) would be able to enter his mind, the lessons were over before they'd really begun.

"But how?" Snape asked. "What are you doing differently?"

Harry shrugged. "I just pictured a curtain, drawing down before my eyes. It seemed to keep you out."

Now Snape was surprised. That was the very thing he'd done when he'd started learning occlumency. "Very good," he muttered. "That's step one. In order for occlumency to be really useful, one must learn to allow others _into _certain areas of the mind, but keep them _out _of others, without those who would wish to access your thoughts being aware that there are areas that are restricted. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded. "I think so. If Voldemort tried to access my thoughts and saw nothing, he would know he was being kept out. If he saw only the thoughts I allowed him to see, he would assume that that's all there were, and he wouldn't know there were others that I was blocking."

"Precisely."

"But how do I do _that_, Professor?"

"That is a lesson for another day, another time. For now, you apparently have mastered the skill of blocking his access completely, and that is enough. I am . . . impressed. Why did you not try that before?"

"I never thought of it," Harry admitted. He wanted to ask why Snape hadn't thought to teach him something like that before, but they'd reached a sort of detente that Harry was unwilling to disturb, so he kept his mouth shut.

##########

Harry didn't get a chance to explain to Sera until later that afternoon, while he helped her prepare dinner. "I'm sorry about this morning, at breakfast," he said quietly, and he explained what had terrified him so, and why, and told her about how he'd been successful at blocking Snape.

"Wow, I'm glad," she admitted with relief. "I thought . . . well, I don't know what I thought." She knew what she thought – she just didn't want to admit it. But he knew as well, and just to make sure she knew he didn't regret it, he risked a quick kiss and told her again. Sera smiled at him, a smile that was part shy little girl and part seductive woman, and it twisted Harry's insides up something fierce.

##########

Dumbledore came for Harry very early one Saturday morning in the first week of August to take him to meet his friends in Diagon Alley and gather his school supplies for the coming term. Ron and Hermione were surprised to see him, and they spent the day together, with Harry getting caught up on how they were spending their summers, but, having been warned by Dumbledore, not sharing anything about how he was spending his. They spent an entertaining part of the day in Fred and George's new shop, then followed Draco Malfoy on a mysterious errand.

Sera and Snape sat alone at the breakfast table. "It's a beautiful day," Sera noted. "What are your plans?

"More of the same, I expect," Snape offered.

"I was just wondering if you'd like to come into town with me," Sera said before she could reconsider, afraid that she'd make this offer and he would say no. She wasn't sure what that rejection would feel like. "I have to get some groceries, and I could show you around. You haven't seen much of this area since you got here. I thought maybe you'd like to get out, and we could spend some time together, just you and me, while Harry's gone." Sera forced herself to stop here. She'd already said too much.

Snape considered her with his dark eyes. "That would be . . . fine," he finally said. "However, I have a potion that needs monitoring, and I could not leave right away. Would ten o'clock be acceptable?"

Sera's smile lit up her face. "That would be great! Ten o'clock, then! I'll just get some housework done while I'm waiting."

Snape couldn't help but smile in return at her obvious happiness.

##########

Sera had the pickup truck running in the front yard when Snape emerged from the house. He looked at the truck dubiously, studied the door as though trying to figure out how to work the handle, then opened the door and slid into the truck. He sat stiffly as Sera backed out into the road.

Sera looked over at him. "Relax," she said. "You look like you're headed for the proctologist."

Snape remained just as rigid and reached a hand out to grasp the seat, his knuckles white as he held on tightly. Sera looked at him, confused. They were traveling no more than twenty miles an hour on the dirt road. What was he afraid of?

"Have you never ridden in a vehicle before?" she asked in a teasing tone.

"Actually, no, I have not," he answered.

"Are you joking?" she asked, incredulous.

Snape looked over at her. "You may have noticed that I do not often make jokes."

This was true. "Never?"

"Not once," he confirmed. "I've ridden on trains and broomsticks. I've traveled by floo and by portkey. But I have never once, I will proudly admit, ridden in any type of motor vehicle."

"Wow," Sera breathed. "Well, I assure you, it's perfectly safe. You have nothing to worry about. You may wish to fasten your seatbelt."

Strangely enough, this statement did not help to convince Snape that this was a perfectly safe way to travel. At his look of accusation, she said, "Not because I think you'll need it," she explained. "Because it's the law. And you might feel better." She stopped the truck in the middle of the road and showed her uncle how to fasten the belt. "Better?" she asked.

"Decidedly not," he said firmly.

Sera chuckled and continued them on their way, making small talk as they went. Whenever she looked over at him, Snape admonished her to keep her eyes on the road.

When they finally pulled into the grocery store parking lot, Snape said, "Maybe I should stay here."

"Ashamed to be seen with me?" Sera asked, trying to appear serious but given away by the twinkle in her eyes.

"Of course not," Snape said with a huff.

"Then come with me," she said. "It's just a grocery store. Don't tell me you've never been in a grocery store either!"

"Not a Muggle one," he admitted.

"Well, it's high time you did, then," she said. "Come on."

It was hot and humid outside, and most people were dressed in shorts and t-shirts or tank tops. Snape and his outfit attracted many curious glances as he whisked up and down the aisles of the grocery store behind Sera. Despite the fact that the store was filled with Muggles, Snape had an overpowering urge to take out his wand, the unfamiliarity of this place grating on his nerves and making him edgy. He was distracted somewhat by the scanner at the cash register, rendered curious about how it worked, which attracted more inquisitive glances from those around them. He was immensely relieved when they finally exited into the sunshine and the heat of the parking lot.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Sera asked.

Snape's suffering glance told her all she needed to know about what he thought of the experience. "Are we going home now?" he asked, desperately needing the quiet of the house and a strong cup of tea.

"Actually, there's one other place I wanted to show you first." A plan had been forming in her mind since he'd agreed to accompany her. She hoped he didn't kill her once he figured out what she was up to.

Reluctantly, Snape climbed back into the truck, buckled himself in, and stared out the windshield as though he were staring down death itself. Sera hid her snort of laughter in a cough. "Ready?"

She parked as close as she could to Madame Mrvichin's shop. "The lady who runs this shop is a witch," she told Snape.

Snape studied Sera, then turned his eyes to the storefront. "And you know this how?"

"This is where Harry and I bought your birthday present. Harry could tell from some of the stuff in the shop that she was a real witch. Then we met her." She thought mentioning how Madame Mrvichin had saved them both from Travis was probably not a good idea. "Come on. I think you'll like it in here."

Grudgingly, Snape got out of the truck, then waited for Sera to lead the way into the dark shop. Immediately, Snape could also tell that this was a magical place, and despite his hesitation, he began looking around at the many items on display. Sera stood at the counter, watching her uncle make a circuit of the room. She was startled by someone suddenly speaking directly behind her. "Ah, Miss Mallory. You have returned."

Sera whipped around to face Madame Mrvichin, surprised again by how tall this woman was. "Yes," she said, her breath coming a little too fast.

"And did your uncle like his present?"

"You can ask him yourself," Sera said with a smile. "He's here with me." Upon hearing their exchange, Snape approached them through the gloom. "Madame Mrvichin, this is my uncle, Severus Snape. Uncle Severus, Madame Mrvichin."

As almost everyone else was, Snape was struck by this woman's regal beauty. He offered her his hand. "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."

Madame Mrvichin accepted his hand and bowed slightly over it. "And I yours," she said. "And it's actually Karen Crawford."

At Sera's questioning look, Madame Mrvichin explained. "Madame Mrvichin is much more mysterious sounding, don't you think?"

Sera smiled in acknowledgment.

"I was asking your niece how you liked the mortar and pestle," Karen said, turning to Snape.

"It was incomparable," Snape said. "Elegant, yet imminently useful."

"Uncle is the potions master at Hogwarts. That's a magical school in Scotland," Sera explained.

Karen raised an eyebrow, obviously impressed with this. "I've actually heard of Hogwarts. Had a distant cousin who attended years ago. You teach potions?"

Sera moved away from them, ostensibly to browse the merchandise, but actually to give them a chance to talk alone. She made her circuit around the shop a very slow one, keeping an ear on the conversation occurring beside the front door. The adults seemed comfortable talking to one another, and the conversation hadn't ebbed when Sera made her way back to them. They stopped talking when she appeared, both of them seeming to have forgotten she was there. She smiled up at them.

"We were just about to get some lunch," Sera said. "Would you care to join us?"

"Now, Serafina, I'm sure Mrs. Crawford has other plans," Snape said quickly.

"Actually, it's _Miss _Crawford," she corrected with a pointed look at Snape. Although Snape didn't smile at this news, he did look immensely pleased. "And I have no other plans."

"But surely you can't just leave," Snape pointed out. "The shop . . ." He waved his hand at the interior of the shop.

"The shop is just a front," she informed them. "It provides the Council with an opportunity to have a local presence with a legitimate business concern. I can leave it whenever I wish."

"Great, then," Sera said, almost clapping her hands in her glee. "Let's go."

As the town's only sit-down restaurant was only a block down the street, the three of them walked, Snape and Karen leading the way and Sera trailing along behind, pleased so far with how her plan was going. The dangerous part was coming up, though, and she hoped her uncle didn't react badly.

They entered the cheery restaurant and stood just inside the door, waiting to be seated. The waitress approached them, with a wary glance at Snape and a smile for the locals, and asked, "Will there be three today?"

Before anyone else could speak, Sera interjected. "Shoot! I forgot I needed to run another errand. You two go ahead and get started without me. I'll be back as soon as I can." And before they could argue or Snape could whack her for what she was about to do, Sera quickly backed out the door and into the heat of the day.

Sera walked to the nearby gas station, where she purchased a sandwich and a drink. She was hungry, but she had no intention of going back to the restaurant. She took her sandwich to the truck, grabbed the book she'd stuffed under the front seat, and settled in to eat and read to help the time pass while she waited.

Almost two hours later, Sera noticed two familiar figures approaching in the rearview mirror. They walked without haste up the street, still conversing, and Sera smiled. They'd obviously found a lot to talk about. She stayed in the truck until they came even with her. They continued to speak for a bit until finally, with a wave at Sera, Karen returned to her shop and Snape got into the truck.

Sera tried to gauge Snape's mood. She replaced the bookmark in her book and placed it on the seat. When Snape didn't say anything, she started up the truck, waited until Snape had buckled up, and pulled out onto the street. She pulled up to the stoplight, which was red, and stopped to wait.

Still Snape didn't speak, which Sera was beginning to think was a bad omen, and she began to get a little nervous that Snape was not happy with her attempt at matchmaking. When the light turned green, she began to pull into the intersection. Suddenly, from her right, a red sports car came at them, going so fast it was almost a blur. Sera stomped on the brake and laid on the horn, and the red car managed to swerve to avoid them, going around them and continuing down the street at a high rate of speed.

"Merlin's beard!" Snape exclaimed. It had happened so quickly, there had been no time to react or speak or even feel fear until it was all over.

"Where's a cop when you need one?" Sera muttered. Checking to be sure that there wasn't someone else with a desire to run them down, Sera continued through the intersection.

"You said this was safe!" Snape accused.

"Well, it is when everyone obeys the rules of the road," Sera snapped back, her own adrenalin diminishing but still present. "Jerk went through a red light. We didn't crash, did we?"

"Only by the most amazing of miracles," Snape pointed out.

Sera noticed that Snape's grip on the seat was even tighter now, but he didn't say another word until they pulled into the driveway at the house, for which Sera was grateful since she had a feeling he had been just about to tell her off for what she'd done. She pressed the button for the automatic garage door opener and waited for the door to open.

Snape gaped as the door pulled up into the garage, apparently of its own accord. "What is this magic?"

"It's not magic," Sera said. "It's a garage door opener. Runs on electricity and batteries."

"Hmm," Snape said, but Sera thought he seemed a little impressed.

She pulled into the garage and stopped. She hopped out of the truck, but it seemed to take Snape a little longer to unfold himself from the frozen position he'd been sitting in since the near miss. Sera grabbed the grocery bags and headed into the house, hoping to avoid or at least delay the explosion she feared was coming.

Snape, however, seemed incapable of anything but crossing through the kitchen and vanishing into his basement haven, and Sera heaved a sigh of relief.

##########

Harry returned shortly after Sera finished putting the groceries away. After a quick kiss, Harry went into his room for a nap before supper. It had been nighttime when he'd left Diagon Alley, and he felt like he'd put in a whole day already. He'd be asleep for the night by suppertime if he didn't get a little rest.

Snape didn't emerge from the basement until Sera called down that supper was ready. He seemed a little surprised to see Harry there, but recovered to ask how the trip to Diagon Alley had gone. Harry filled them in on all he had seen and heard while back at home, including his visit to Fred and George's shop and the mysterious errand that they'd followed Draco Malfoy on. He didn't mention that he'd caught himself many times wishing Sera had been able to accompany him. He'd been surprised at how much he'd missed her while he was away. "So what did you two do today?" he asked them innocently when he'd finished his tale.

An uncomfortable silence settled in the room, confusing Harry.

Supper was finished, and Snape asked, his voice deceptively calm, "Miss Mallory, do you wish me to ask Mr. Potter to leave the room?"

"Uh oh," Sera thought to herself. He was angry. _Really _angry from the sound of it. Harry looked from one to the other of them, wondering what had happened in his absence.

"Harry can stay," Sera said, her voice low and fearful.

After a moment of awkward silence, Snape said, "Would you care to explain what you were thinking?"

Sera wasn't quite sure how to answer that one, so she sat for a time formulating a response. All of the reasons she had done what she'd done would carry no weight with her uncle, she was sure of that. It had seemed like such a good idea this morning. She'd been even more sure of that when she'd seen how the two of them got along. But now, in the face of his apparent anger, none of her reasons seemed valid or particularly intelligent.

"Can I ask what happened?" Harry asked quietly, fairly certain that his interference would not be welcomed by Snape. He recognized his teacher's outward calm that hid seething anger just below the surface – he'd had it directed at himself enough times – and if he could diffuse it or redirect some of it towards himself and away from Sera, he would do that willingly.

Sera was happy for the opportunity to delay trying to answer he uncle's question, though. "We went into town today, and –"

Harry thought he now knew what the trouble was, and he jumped in before she could finish. "Is this about the truck? Because, really, Professor, Sera is a good driver, and the fact that she doesn't have a license shouldn't matter all that much!"

Snape now looked at Sera with a new reason to be upset. Sera turned her dark eyes angrily on Harry, with a look that said, "Thanks a lot!" Harry realized instantly that he'd said the wrong thing, and he sank a little lower in his seat. So much for diffusing or redirecting – he'd probably just doubled Snape's anger!

"We'll deal with that later," Snape growled. "I'm still waiting for an answer to my question. Whatever possessed you?"

Sera stared down at the table and ran a thumbnail along one of the lines in the plaid cloth covering it. "I don't know. It just seemed like a good idea at the time."

"I cannot hear you when you mumble into the tablecloth," Snape noted. "Look at me when you speak to me."

Sera raised her eyes to his. "I don't know," she repeated loudly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Harry was curious enough to burst, wondering what she possibly could have done that would have angered Snape this much, but he knew better now than to ask.

"And now?" Snape challenged.

"Not so much," she admitted. "But she was nice, though, right? You seemed to be having a really nice conversation, and I thought . . ."

"You _thought_?" Snape repeated with a bit of the familiar sneer that Harry hadn't seen for a while. "I have to question that assertion, because there doesn't seem to be any basis for it. I cannot imagine any train of thought that would have led you to the station you apparently arrived at."

"What's the big deal?" Sera asked, her fear trying to turn to self-righteous anger. "So the two of you had lunch?! Was it so awful? Because it didn't look to me like you were having a miserable time!"

"That is entirely beside the point," Snape said.

"So what, then, is the point?" Sera asked.

"The _point _is the devious and underhanded way in which you went about this . . . setup."

"Well, would you have gone if I had suggested it in advance?" Sera challenged.

"No."

Sera sat back, her point made. "You see?"

"What I _see _is you mucking about in places you have no right to be. I will not tolerate it."

"So I shouldn't invite her here to dinner some night, then?" Sera asked, unable to stop herself. That had been the next step in her plan.

Snape threw up his hands in frustration. "No, you should not invite her here to dinner! Honestly, child, I don't know how to get through to you. Let me make myself plain." He leaned toward her, his manner sinister. Sera fought the urge to lean back away from him. "You will stay out of my love life," he said. Harry's eyes widened at this revelation.

Though the tone of his voice left no room for backtalk, Sera managed to find it anyway. "Or lack thereof," she said.

"Sera!" Snape shouted, finally losing his temper and making Harry jump inches out of his chair.

"Okay!" she shouted back. "Whatever you say!"

"Thank you!" he said, falsely grateful, and he stood up and stalked out of the room and down the stairs.

"You're welcome," she said after he'd gone, unable to let him have the last word.

Harry stared across at her. "What did you _do?_"he asked, keeping his voice low in case Snape had stopped to listen.

Sera huffed and crossed her arms, sitting back in her chair. "I set him up to go to lunch with Madame Mrvichin. Whose name is actually Karen Crawford, by the way. Alone."

"You did what?! Are you mad?!"

"Apparently," Sera conceded bitterly. "I don't get why he's so upset. They really seemed to hit it off. They couldn't stop talking in the store, and when I suggested that she go to lunch with us, she seemed really interested. They talked all the way to the restaurant, and then I left them there. I made up an errand that I needed to run. I waited in the truck for them, and they were in there almost two hours! It couldn't have been that miserable, or they would have come looking for me much sooner!"

Harry shook his head. "You're brave, I'll give you that. How is it that he was able to hold off on confronting you until now? You're lucky he didn't take your head off as soon as he had you alone."

"I think he was going to. We had a near miss with another car on the way home, and that seemed to freak him out a little. Or a lot. He'd never ridden in a car before, can you believe it? You wizardy people are really weird in a freaky sort of way. _You _weren't freaked out by the truck."

"I grew up with Muggles, remember? I'd been in a car plenty of times. Sorry about telling him you don't have a license," Harry added.

"Well, he didn't mention that, at least."

"Probably saving it for later," Harry guessed.

"Great. Thanks, Harry," she said sarcastically.

##########

Two days had passed. Sera tried to stay out of her uncle's way, in case he was still mad, but his anger seemed to have dissipated after making his point with her. She was able to guess why when that morning he mentioned, in as off-hand a manner as possible, hoping his announcement would pass without any undue commotion, "Miss Crawford is coming to dinner this evening."

But there was no way Sera was going to let _that _pass that easily. "I'm sorry. What did you say?" she asked, fighting the urge to crow. "I must have misheard you because it sounded like you said Miss Crawford was coming to dinner tonight."

Snape drew himself up proudly. "That is what I said," he confirmed.

"You invited her to dinner!" Sera nearly shouted in her glee.

"I did." Snape had felt compelled to do so. At the end of their very nice luncheon on Saturday, Snape had been very dismayed to discover that he had no money with which to pay for said lunch. He hadn't brought any with him, not figuring he would need it. He'd been more than a little embarrassed, and that had been the cause for most of his anger with Sera. Karen had been very gracious about the whole thing and had paid for their lunch. In exchange, Snape had invited her to dine with them at the farmhouse, which invitation she had accepted immediately.

"Ha! I knew it!" Sera said, unable to contain herself. "You like her," she sang.

"That is irrelevant," Snape said haughtily. "And I don't wish to discuss this any further. You may choose the menu for this evening's dinner. And you WILL NOT disappear. I will expect both of you at the dinner table for the entire meal."

"Yes, sir!" Sera said with a smile and a snappy salute. She was going to start searching through her cookbooks right away for just the right meal. She avoided looking at Harry, because she knew if she did, she'd start laughing at her uncle, which would probably not improve his mood any.

##########

"Miss Crawford!" Sera said, meeting their guest at the door. "Please come in."

"Thank you, Sera. And please call me Karen. This was your grandmother's house?"

"Yes. She lived here all her life. Why don't you come into the kitchen while I finish dinner."

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" Karen offered.

"No, thanks. I'm all set. Have a seat."

Karen sat at the dining room table. "Severus told me what a good cook you are. You're very young to have developed such skills."

"I cooked for my grandmother," Sera explained. "And I like doing it."

Harry, hearing that their guest had arrived, came out of his bedroom. "Hello, Madame Mrvichin."

"Harry," she said with a beautiful smile. "How nice to see you again. And it's Karen, please. How are you enjoying your summer here?"

"It's been great," Harry said truthfully, his eyes straying to Sera, who smiled at him in return.

Karen studied the two of them, seeing at once that there was something between them. She smiled to herself at the memory of her own first young love.

"Why don't I get Snape?" Harry offered.

Harry bounded down the basement steps and came to a stop before Snape's door. He peered inside, but could not see anyone. "Professor?" he called into the empty room.

Snape emerged from his sleeping chamber. "Potter."

"Your date is here," Harry said with a mischievous smile. If anyone had told him months ago that he would be uttering those words to Professor Snape, he would have told them they'd spent too much time in the presence of the Whomping Willow. "Oi! I think that's number three on the top ten list of things I never thought I'd say to you."

"Do I want to hear numbers one and two on that list?" Snape asked.

"Definitely not, sir."

With a small "tsk" of annoyance at Harry, Snape passed him and mounted the steps.

"Karen," he said. "How very nice to see you again."

Karen rose from her chair to greet him, a smile lighting her beautiful face. "Severus."

"Have you been here long? Has Sera offered you a refreshment?"

"I've been here only a few minutes. And Sera has been a perfectly charming hostess," she said, accepting a glass of lemonade from Sera as she spoke.

"Dinner will be a few more minutes, if you'd like to retire to the living room," Sera suggested, her attempt at sounding mature marred by the giggle that snuck out after her offer.

Harry helped Sera to put the few remaining touches on dinner while the adults sat in the living room, talking. Sera kept shooting meaningful glances at Harry, and he smiled in return, but he wasn't sure what she was expecting. Karen and Snape did seem to be having no trouble conversing, but in the end, what did it really matter? Snape would surely be leaving here in a few weeks' time, which wasn't nearly enough time to get serious enough about someone to consider uprooting your life. Was it?

Dinner was very nice. In deference to the heat and humidity, Sera had kept the menu as cool as possible. Lime shrimp wrapped in lettuce, a Waldorf salad to which Sera had added craisins, and strawberry soup, which Harry thought sounded disgusting but actually turned out to taste like liquid heaven in a bowl. Lemonade from scratch and chocolate cake with ice cream rounded out the perfect meal.

The conversation was lively and almost uninterrupted. Karen had many questions for Harry once she figured out who he really was, which he tried to deflect back to the others as much as possible. Karen and Snape continued a conversation regarding the differences in European and American magical education which they had apparently begun at lunch last weekend. Sera didn't speak much, but was happy to sit and take everything in, pretending, at least for tonight, that she knew what it felt like to have a real family that sat around the table like this every night. They sat and talked long after dessert had been eaten. Finally realizing how late it was, Sera stood up and started clearing the table, which became a cue for everyone else to do likewise.

Karen insisted on helping with clean-up. When they were finished, Snape walked Karen to her car. When Snape returned many minutes later, Sera asked slyly, "Sooo – did you kiss her goodnight?"

Snape gave her a look that would have intimidated just about anyone else. Sera laughed, but let the subject drop.

##########

Harry had been quiet of late, the approaching end of summer forcing him to confront some of the uncertainty he'd be facing shortly. He'd come to realize that coming here was just the thing he needed, and he hoped he remembered to thank Professor McGonagall for suggesting it the next time he saw her. He was more at peace than he could ever remember being. He'd had only a handful of nightmares since coming here, and the scar on his forehead had remained pain-free.

After the first couple of weeks, when the instinct to check around every corner and to wonder what was behind every tree had passed, he'd become used to the fact that no one here wished him ill, and he'd been able to relax like never before. Even with the Dursleys he'd always had to be on guard against Dudley's physical attacks and Uncle Vernon's mental strikes and even Aunt Petunia's just plain meanness. He needed no further evidence of this than the fact that half the time, he went about his day without his wand. Because of the reduced need for that heightened vigilance, he found it restful enough that he'd had time to think about Sirius and about Cedric, and to talk about them with Sera, and he'd come to terms with what had happened to them and his role in it. There would always be guilt, but he could live with it now.

Returning to school was very much on his mind, and the thought brought him only half of the pleasure that it usually did. Returning to Hogwart's had always felt like returning home, mostly because he'd never had a real home to leave. And although this old one-story secluded farmhouse in a foreign country wasn't really his home, the people in it had very much begun to feel like a family. Yes, even Snape. His turbulent relationship with Snape had changed to one of almost mutual respect. Gone were the snide remarks and the cutting insults. Harry guessed that neither of them was capable of real affection for the other, but they'd come to tolerate and accept, and that was enough.

And then there was Sera. Harry knew like he knew his own name that he loved her. The time for leaving was less than two weeks away, and he still didn't know what would happen to Sera when term started up again and Snape had to return to Hogwarts. Sera had been reluctant to bring the subject up with her uncle because she feared that she'd hear that he was leaving her behind. If she didn't ask, she could continue to pretend that he had other plans for her. The thought of being separated from her soon left an ache in the center of Harry's heart and a hole in his stomach. How could he leave her after all they'd been to each other this summer?

And he couldn't forget Lenni, his new kitten. They'd searched for a name that meant brave, and Sera had found Leonard on the internet and discovered it meant "brave as a lion" which Harry thought was a perfect name for a Gryffindor. A girl couldn't be called Leonard, of course, so they'd shortened it and feminized it to Lenni. Harry had become quite attached to the kitten, and he looked forward to bringing her back to school with him. Sera had become fond of her as well, and Harry felt a little guilt at the thought that if she had to stay here, he'd be taking Lenni away from her as well. He kept meaning to ask Snape if animals could disapparate. If they couldn't, he may be forced to leave her here, but if Sera stayed behind, that wouldn't be so bad. He'd miss her, though. She slept on his bed each night and curled up with him when he sat down to read or watch television. She was happy and sweet tempered and seemed to love everyone (even Snape).

The distraction of Sera's future was the only thing that worried him now, and for the most part, he was happy, really content, for maybe the first time in his life. He should have known that wouldn't last forever.

##########

Harry awoke with the realization that he wasn't alone, and instinct told him to be afraid. It only took a couple of seconds to realize, however, that whoever was in the bed with him wasn't there to kill him, at least not in the way he was accustomed to.

"Sera!" he whispered. "What are you doing?!"

From under the blankets came Sera's muffled voice. "I should think that was obvious."

It was, really, but the tiny part of Harry that was capable of rational thought wasn't sure this was a good idea. The rest of him, the part that responded to Sera's hands and mouth, quickly overruled his objections, and he succumbed to her without further argument.

Afterward, Harry lay on his back, looking at the ceiling, trying to get his breath back. "Do I want to know where you learned that?" he asked her.

"I read a lot," she told him simply, smacking her lips at the foreign taste in the back of her mouth.

"Well, it was rather nice for me," he noted. "But it couldn't have done much for you."

"Don't be so sure. Anyway, I'll give you the chance to reciprocate."

Harry felt himself blushing to a deep red. "Well you . . . but I don't think . . . what do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," she said softly, surely. "You need to lose some of your inhibitions, Harry. We're two consenting . . . well, not adults exactly, but close enough." She could tell the idea was very discomfiting to Harry, and she let him off the hook, for now anyway. "Don't worry. I wasn't talking about tonight. Just maybe . . . some time?"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and accepted her willingly into his arms when she insinuated herself there. Lenni jumped onto the bed and curled up on Harry's chest. Sera stroked the kitten's ears, content to lay here with the two of them and never leave.

"I suppose you should go," Harry said with a sigh, his thoughts echoing her own.

"I don't want to."

"And I don't want you to. But if your uncle finds you here . . ." He didn't want to finish that thought.

"How about we set the alarm for four-thirty? I'll go then."

"That should work," Harry agreed. Sera sat up and fixed the alarm clock by Harry's bed. She settled herself back in next to him and fell asleep with the thought that there was no reason they couldn't do this every night. Uncle Severus slept downstairs. He didn't need to know that Sera snuck in here after the house was still and slept with Harry. If they were up in the morning before Uncle, he'd never know.

And isn't it always the smallest things that bring down the greatest plans?

Some time later in the night, Lenni had meowed at the bedroom door. Harry heard her, and fearing she needed to use her litter box, got up to let her out. He left the door ajar so that when she was ready to come back up, she'd be able to get in without waking him again. He climbed back into his bed, into Sera's warmth, and immediately fell back asleep.

But Lenni hadn't come back. She'd prowled the house, searching dark corners for mice and spiders, chasing a house fly from one end of the kitchen to another, staring out the windows at the darkness. And shortly before four-thirty, she'd ventured down the basement stairs and into Snape's workshop. There were lots of interesting things to smell in here, and she jumped onto the table, her little nose twitching.

When she'd explored everything on the table, she jumped to the nearest shelf. When she did, she knocked over an empty glass vial, which hit the floor with a crash.

In his sleeping chamber, Snape awoke with a start at the sound of glass breaking. He got quickly out of bed, grabbed his wand, and soon discovered the source of the noise that had interrupted his sleep. "Nuisance," he muttered as he pointed his wand at the broken glass to get rid of the mess.

He then heard the sound of an alarm clock blaring from somewhere upstairs. That was curious, he thought. It was four-thirty in the morning. Which one of the two layabout teenagers felt the need to make themselves get out of bed this early? He finished cleaning up, then started slowly up the stairs to investigate.

Harry reached over Sera to slap the alarm clock to shut it up. His hand landed on his glasses, and he picked them up and put them on. "Sera," he whispered, nudging her. "Time to get up."

"Mmhmmph," she said, snuggling deeper into the blankets.

"Sera!" Harry said, more insistently this time. Still she didn't move. "Don't make me do something drastic," he warned her. Still nothing. "All right, don't say I didn't warn you."

He began to tickle her ribs, and she started to squirm beneath his hands. He instantly realized that she was still completely unclothed, and that realization made him want to do something other than tickle her. They had a few minutes, and that was all he really needed.

He rolled on top of her, his hands still wandering about in the general vicinity of her ribs, as she tried to get at his hands to make him stop. "Stop!" she gasped through her giggles. Harry kissed her soundly, trying to keep her quiet and also because he really wanted to. "Quiet!" he hissed. "Do you want your uncle to hear?"

"It's a little late for that," said a voice from the doorway. "And I'd thank you to GET OFF MY NIECE!"

Harry rolled off Sera quickly and sat staring at a furious Severus Snape. "Bloody hell!" he thought to himself, pulling the sheet up to his chest, desperately trying to cover his condition. His erection wilted at what would have been an alarming rate under other circumstances.

Snape almost totally misinterpreted what he'd seen. When he'd peered through the partially-ajar bedroom door, he'd seen Harry Potter on top of his struggling niece, and he'd heard one word: "Stop."

"Serafina," Snape said, not taking his eyes from Harry, "are you all right?"

Sera sat up, clutching at the sheet to keep herself covered, pulling it away from Harry, who grabbed frantically at it. "I'm fine, Uncle. This isn't what it looks like."

"I can see exactly what this looks like. Up, boy!"

As Snape had his wand clutched in his hand and pointing at him, Harry figured he'd better do as he'd been told. He could tell from the look in Snape's eyes that he was beyond reasoning with, so he said nothing. Keeping an eye warily on Snape's wand, he disentangled himself from the sheet and stood beside the bed, feeling all the more vulnerable for the fact that he was naked. His boxers lay crumpled on the floor by this feet, and Harry bent down and quickly put them on.

"Away from the bed," Snape ordered with a wave of his wand.

Harry was reluctant to move so far away from Sera. Once he had them separated, there was nothing to keep Snape from killing Harry on the spot.

"I said, away from the bed!"

Harry moved to the wall. At least when he blasted Harry, Sera wouldn't be caught in the vortex. Instead of using his wand, Snape advanced on Harry until he towered over him, his rage making him appear to Harry taller than he was. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now," Snape said, his voice deadly calm.

"I . . ." Harry started, but Snape didn't give him a chance to finish. Before Harry could react, Snape had him pinned to the wall, an arm at his throat, slowly but surely cutting off his air supply.

Sera scrambled off the bed, clutching at the sheet to keep herself covered. "Uncle!" she cried in alarm.

Snape either didn't hear her or disregarded her cry. He finally had the delinquent Harry Potter exactly where he wanted him, physically, certainly, but also with a reason to do him bodily harm that no one could argue with, and he increased the pressure on Harry's windpipe.

Harry knew he should struggle, kick out maybe, but the edges of his vision were already starting to gray, and he knew he was only moments from passing out. After that, he guessed, death would soon follow. After all these years of avoiding Voldemort's attempts to kill him, Harry was going to die here, in his pants, at the hands of Severus Snape.

"Uncle, stop, or I'll use this!" Sera cried, which finally made Snape look up.

She had picked up Harry's wand and thought she was pointing it at her uncle. Unfortunately, the business end of the wand was pointing directly at her own heart. If she'd received even a tiny amount of magical ability from her mother's predecessors, given her heightened emotional state, who knew what magic she might be capable of producing?

"Let him go," she ordered.

Harry had enough brain cells still firing to be afraid for her as well, but he could not speak in his present condition. His befuddled brain requested that he make a mental note to himself to show Sera how to hold a wand if he survived this mess.

Fortunately, the uncertainty of Sera's power and concern for his niece pierced the veil of hatred that surrounded Snape, and he let go of Harry so suddenly that Harry slid down the wall until he was sitting slumped on the floor, holding his throat and gasping to fill his lungs with much-needed air.

"Put that down before you hurt yourself!" Snape ordered.

"Not until you back away from him."

Snape looked down at Harry, still struggling to breathe on the floor. He knew he could disarm Sera in an instant and finish the job, finally, with Potter, but enough of the anger had evaporated so that he could think clearly again. And she was still pointing the boy's wand at her own chest. He took one step backward

"Now put your wand down," Sera ordered.

"Serafina . . ." he began.

"Just do it!"

Snape sighed. He could point out to her that even without his wand, he could neutralize whatever threat she posed with little effort and dispose of Potter, but he didn't. He just wanted her to put the wand down before she hurt herself, and he dropped his wand to the floor.

"Harry, are you all right?" Sera asked.

"I'm fine," Harry croaked, rising awkwardly to his feet, his back to the wall for support, still a little light-headed. "Would you put that down, please?"

"Not until he agrees not to touch you again."

Snape was confused. "I don't understand why you're defending him after he tried to force himself on you."

"He wasn't _forcing _himself on me!" Sera cried. "I was in _his _bed, wasn't I?! I wanted it!"

Harry now wished that the wand Sera was holding would turn on him and end this misery.

Snape looked from one to the other, his anger growing again as he realized exactly what was going on here, what they'd been hiding from him. "How long has this been going on?"

"We weren't doing anything!" Sera said.

"Not for lack of trying," Snape noted. "You're strangely quiet, Potter. Nothing to say? No eloquent words in defense of your behavior? Then again, I don't expect the truth from you in any event. History has taught that the word of a Potter is meaningless."

Harry's fear from moments ago was transforming quickly into anger. "Don't you drag my father into this!" he squawked, his voice hoarse from the near-strangling.

"Why not? It's obvious where you got your scruples from. But there is one way of getting the truth from you, isn't there? What about it, Potter? Willing to drink a little veritaserum?"

Harry really didn't want to. Under the influence of the truth serum, he'd be at Snape's mercy. Snape could ask him about anything, and Harry would be powerless to do anything but tell him the truth. But if he refused, he'd look even more guilty than circumstances now made him out to be. At the very least, the truth of his relationship with Sera was going to come out. He only hoped nothing more would follow.

Harry looked Snape in the eye and said, "Get it."

"After you," Snape said, sweeping his arm at the door. He wasn't going to give Potter a chance to disapparate away.

Harry looked at him and moved toward the door. He grabbed his t-shirt from the floor and put it on with as much dignity as he could muster, then headed for the basement door.

They had both forgotten Sera. She finally put Harry's wand back where she'd found it and followed them to the basement, still wrapped in Harry's sheet. She wanted to get dressed, but she wasn't going to leave Uncle alone with Harry, not even for a minute.

Snape pushed Harry into a chair and went into the store room to retrieve his bottle of truth serum. He handed it to Harry. "Drink it."

Harry took the bottle. With one last, apologetic, look at Sera, he took the tiniest sip of the liquid, then set the bottle on the table.

"Let's start with something basic, just to be sure it's working. Have you ever brewed and/or consumed polyjuice potion?"

"Consumed, yes."

Snape smirked triumphantly. He'd been sure it was Harry and his friends that had raided his store cupboard of lacewing flies and boomslang skin, even after they'd found out that Barty Crouch, Jr. had been posing as Alastor Moody all term.

"When?" he continued.

"Second year," Harry told him.

"Second year?" Snape repeated, surprised. "Fourth year, also?"

"No. Just second year."

So it _had_ been Crouch only during the tri-wizard tournament. Apparently he'd never noticed when they'd taken the ingredients earlier. Now he was curious. "Why?"

"Because we were trying to discover who the heir of Slytherin was. We thought it was Malfoy. Ron and I transformed ourselves into Crabbe and Goyle to get close to him. But it wasn't Malfoy."

No, it hadn't been Malfoy. "Have you ever cheated on an exam?"

"That's not fair!" Sera cried before Harry could answer. "That's not what this is about!"

But Harry couldn't stop himself from answering. "Not on an exam, no. I've copied Hermione's homework."

Snape knew that already – he hadn't needed truth serum for that.

"Have you ever slept with my niece?" he asked quickly, now wanting this to be over with as much as Harry did.

"In the literal sense, or the Biblical sense?"

"Let's go with the Biblical," Snape suggested drily.

"Actually, the answer to both is the same. Yes."

"How many times?"

Harry had to think about this one. As he thought, he counted out loud on his fingers. "Let's see, there was the first time, in the truck, the other time in the back of the truck, there have been one . . . two . . . three . . . four times by the lake, once in her bed, once in the shower," this memory was accompanied by a lecherous smile and a low chuckle that Harry couldn't repress, "once on the sofa, one . . . two. . ."

"Enough!" Snape interrupted. This was more information than he'd bargained for.

"Twelve, I think," Harry said, because he was unable not to. "But not this morning."

Snape ignored this. All he really wanted to know was, "Have you ever forced her?"

"No! She's always been perfectly willing. In fact, most times, she instigated it."

Sera blushed and was glad no one was looking at her.

What to do now? Snape wondered. He had the truth, he was sure of it. But how had it helped? He was still angry, though not quite as angry as he'd been when he thought he'd seen Potter raping his niece. And he couldn't help the feeling of betrayal that stole over him upon learning that Sera had chosen to be with Potter. She was supposed to have been able to resist the Potter magnetism, but she'd fallen under its spell just like almost everyone else had. What was he going to do now?

"We're done here," he muttered. He thought about giving Harry an antidote to the truth serum, but decided against it. Let him live with it until the effects wore off. "I'll be speaking with Dumbledore directly about this. Get out of my sight. Both of you."

Harry followed Sera up the stairs. He squeezed her hand, said "I love you," quietly to her, and they went into their separate rooms to dress. And as bad as the situation was, Sera was comforted by the fact that he'd said he loved her when he was unable to lie.

##########

Unwilling to go to him and leave the miscreants alone in the house and give them an opportunity to repeat their misdeeds, Snape had asked for Dumbledore's immediate presence, and within thirty minutes, the headmaster stood in his basement workshop.

"Severus," he said, "I came as soon as I could. Has something happened to Harry?"

Harry. It was always about Harry. "No, nothing has happened to Potter. This is more about what Potter has been doing. Specifically, with my niece."

Dumbledore caught on immediately, and raised an eyebrow at Snape. "You're certain?"

"He's admitted to it."

"With some assistance?" Dumbledore asked with a piercing stare at Snape.

Snape nodded in acknowledgment. "I wanted to be sure. Not that I needed it, after catching them . . . in the act."

Dumbledore winced. That had to have been uncomfortable for all concerned. "I don't see Harry here, Severus. I'm assuming that he's alive and well somewhere in this house?"

"He is," Snape affirmed with regret.

"And your niece?"

"She, as well."

Dumbledore sighed. "What is it you wish me to do, Severus?"

"What I wish you to do, Headmaster, is give me back this summer to do over again!"

"But, Severus, all of your reports have been so positive. You've caught Harry up on his school work, you've taught him to apparate, and you couldn't have been more pleased about his new-found ability at occlumency."

"And I guess we now know why he developed such a highly advanced ability to block access to his thoughts so suddenly!"

Dumbledore ignored this. It truly didn't matter to him _why _Harry had learned to block unwanted access to his thoughts, only that he had done so. His very life might depend on that ability one day.

"Not to mention the relationship you've forged with your niece during your time here. That has to be worth something," said Dumbledore.

"I _thought _it was," Snape admitted. "It turns out I was wrong."

"Severus, she is not Lily," Dumbledore pointed out gently. "And Harry is not James. They've done nothing to you."

Snape didn't want to go down that road. "I cannot stay here with them now. I cannot look at them and not see . . ."

Dumbledore sighed. This had lasted longer than he'd thought it would and had gone much better than he'd ever imagined. If it had to end now, with only a few days left until term, he couldn't argue. "How long will it take you to pack up here?"

"I had already begun. I'll need only a day or so to finish packing, but I'll probably need a week to figure out what to do about Serafina and make those arrangements."

Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes searched Snape's black ones. "Severus, don't make decisions hastily. Think about what's best for the girl. I'd like to meet her while I'm here. But I would like to speak with Harry first."

"Up the stairs, to your left. His bedroom's on the right."

Dumbledore climbed the stairs and stopped at the top, where Lenni sat waiting to make his acquaintance. He scooped the kitten up, and Lenni snuggled into his beard beneath his chin. Dumbledore tapped on Harry's door and pushed it open. "Who's your new friend?" he asked.

Harry had been sitting on his bed, staring idly out the window, wondering what was going to happen now. At the sound of the familiar voice, he jumped up and whirled to face the headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore!"

"Hello, Harry. You look well." And he did. Harry had put on some weight this summer, thanks to Serafina's cooking, and the time he'd spent outdoors had left him tan and healthy looking. Best yet, his eyes had lost that haunted look, and there was peace there behind the immediate turmoil that raged now. "Your little friend here is quite charming."

Harry smiled. "That's Lenni. Sera gave her to me for my birthday."

"Ah, Sera. The reason I'm here."

Harry blushed and looked away.

"Harry Potter, the normal, unmagical teenaged boy," Dumbledore said, repeating what he'd told Harry at the beginning of the summer. "Professor Snape is rather upset with you."

"I noticed, sir," Harry said, rubbing his neck in remembrance.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

"What _can _I say, Professor? It happened. I can't undo it now. Nor do I want to!"

"Do you love her, Harry?"

"Yes, sir, I do. Very much."

Dumbledore smiled behind his beard. Teenagers were always so convinced that they were in love, that what they felt had never been felt by anyone anywhere ever. And trying to convince them that what they thought they felt might not be all that they imagined it to be was pointless, so Dumbledore didn't try.

"I'm sorry, sir. About your having to come here. About messing things up."

"Ah Harry, you haven't 'messed' anything up. You're a young man. She's a young woman. If there wasn't some attraction there, our species would die out, and where would we be then? No, what happened is what is supposed to happen. The consequences, though, are what we must be careful about. Might I assume that you have been . . . careful?"

Harry didn't immediately understand what Dumbledore was talking about, but when it dawned on him that Dumbledore was wondering if they'd used protection, he turned bright red. "Um, well . . . we . . . there wasn't . . . I didn't have . . ."

A sudden thought struck Dumbledore. "Harry, your aunt and uncle, did they ever talk to you about . . .?" He made a rolling gesture with his left hand, indicating "this" with that vague motion.

Harry was looking at anything but Dumbledore, more embarrassed than he'd ever been in his life. He did _not _want to be having this conversation with the headmaster! "My aunt and uncle? They don't talk to me about the weather, certainly not about anything this . . . important. But you needn't be concerned, sir. I know enough about . . . stuff . . . and I'll be . . ."

Dumbledore took pity on Harry and held up his hand to stop him. "It's too late to worry about that now. But I need you to do me a favor, Harry. I need you not to do it again."

"Are you asking me to stay away from Sera?"

"You'll only be here another week, at most, Harry. Plans are underway as we speak to return you to school. But it will take some time, and I'm assuming I can convince Severus to let you stay here. I'm also going to assume you have enough self-control to last that long."

Harry swallowed the knot that had appeared in the back of his throat. "Do you know what's going to happen to Serafina, Professor?"

"No, Harry, I do not. Her future is in the hands of her uncle, and I don't think he knows himself. Can I count on you to toe the line for a few days?"

Harry looked at Dumbledore, his eyes full of despair. His perfect summer was disintegrating before his eyes. "If you think it's best."

"I do, Harry. I do. Thank you. Now, I'd like to meet the young lady in question. Might I assume that the room next to yours belongs to her?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. Would you like me to introduce you?"

"That won't be necessary. I will see you soon, Harry. Take care of yourself until then."

"Good-bye, sir."

Dumbledore placed Lenni on the bed, then left the room, shutting the door behind him.

##########

The knock on Serafina's door was not a surprise. She'd been expecting her uncle, telling her that he was heading back to England and that he'd informed the social services people that she was their problem now. It _was _a surprise, though, when she opened the door to find an old dude with really long white hair and a very long beard standing there.

"Er, hello," she said.

"Hello, Serafina. My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am pleased to make your acquaintance finally." He offered his hand to her.

"Dumbledore!" she said with a large smile, grasping his hand and pumping it. "Harry's told me so much about you! I feel like I should bow or something."

"That won't be necessary, I assure you," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "Might I come in?"

"Oh, sure. Of course. Come on in."

Dumbledore released her hand and entered her room. "Would you like to sit down?" she invited.

"That's very kind of you, thank you, but I'll only be a moment. I just wanted to meet the charmer who's captured young Harry's heart."

Sera smiled shyly. "He worships the ground you walk on, you know."

"I feel the same way about him," Dumbledore assured her. "Your uncle, on the other hand, is a bit put out with both of you at the moment."

Sera's smiled faded. "I know. And things were going so well, too. I had hoped that he was going to . . . Never mind. It doesn't matter any more. He'll do what he's going to do and there's nothing I can do about it now. I don't regret what we did. Not for a minute. I love Harry!"

Dumbledore smiled again. "That's what he said about you. I'm going to go back downstairs now and try to convince your uncle to not make hasty decisions, to stay here for another week and sort things through. I have asked Harry, and I'm going to ask you, to refrain from any further physical contact during this time. I don't know what your uncle is going to decide to do about you, Miss Mallory, but whatever that might be, it would be unfortunate if your dalliance with Harry led to . . . shall we say, permanent consequences? I trust you see the wisdom of this statement, even if your heart is rebelling against it?"

Sera's eyes had filled with tears. They were going to break her and Harry up. She could see it coming. But she nodded, unable to speak, wanting now only to be alone. Besides, what could she say? She was a simple, non-magical girl, and Harry was . . . well Harry was special. He hadn't come right out and told her that, of course, but she could read between the lines. She belonged in this world, and he belonged in the Magic Kingdom, as she'd come to refer to it. Had she ever really had a chance?

"I'm sorry that we've met under such circumstances," Dumbledore continued when she didn't speak, "and I do hope to see you again some time. Please take care of yourself, Miss Mallory."

With that, Dumbledore let himself out of her room. He returned to the basement, where he found Snape in the midst of packing boxes of potion ingredients. Bottles flew in organized patterns across the room and into their respective boxes.

"Packing begun I see."

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Decisions being made as well?" Dumbeldore inquired.

"I believe so."

"And?"

"And I'm going back to Hogwarts, where I belong," Snape told him.

"And your niece?"

"She belongs here."

"Because you feel that is what's best for her, or because she has betrayed you, as you feel Lily betrayed you so many years ago?"

"This isn't about that!" Snape snapped. The bottles all stopped in mid-air.

"Isn't it, Severus?"

"I've made up my mind," said Snape stubbornly.

"Then I won't try and change it. But I must ask you one more thing."

"What is it?"

"I need a few days to make arrangements for Harry's safe return to school. I must ask you to remain here, with him, until I give the word that it is safe for him to come back. I have spoken with him, and he has given his word that he will stay away from your niece during this time. You need not bother with lessons any longer, obviously. I only ask that you and he coexist and not do permanent damage to one another until I bring you both home."

The bottles once again started on their journeys to their respective destinations. "I will do this on one condition," Snape finally said.

"Name it."

"You perform a memory charm to erase what happened between them this summer. On _both _of them. Today."

"Severus, it was a simple teenage love affair. Children of their age have been having them since the beginning of time and will continue to do so until the end of it. They fall in love, they fall out of love, they move on. There's no need to erase what they had from their memories. We cannot grow and learn from our experiences if we cannot remember them."

Stubbornly, Snape said, "Those are my conditions."

"Let's examine what happened here," Dumbledore continued, trying to reason with Snape. "Harry is a reasonably attractive young man. Your niece is quite a beauty. They were confined here, together, for months. Knowing you as I do, Severus, I would hazard a guess that you left them largely to their own devices. It doesn't take any divination skill to predict what might happen when two teenagers of the opposite sex are left alone for any length of time."

"Are you blaming _me _for this?" Snape asked, incredulous. "Are you implying that had I paid them more attention this never would have happened?"

"No, of course not," Dumbledore assured him. "They and they alone are responsible for their actions. I only ask that you consider that what they've done isn't the terrible thing you're making it out to be. They're young. Young people are impetuous, their judgment not fully formed. They sometimes leap into situations that older, more cautious people would not."

Snape would not be swayed. "Memory charms, or I leave here in the next day or so, Potter be damned."

Dumbledore sighed. He really needed Harry to stay here while he finalized plans for his safe return to school, plans which were already under way. He'd thought he had another week to complete then, and he wasn't sure how much he could advance the timetable. "All right, Severus. But not today. I will return when the time is right, and I will do it then. Let them say good-bye."

Snape grunted his assent.

At the top of the stairs, Sera, who had been eavesdropping, wanting desperately to know what her uncle's plans were for her, buried her face in her hands and ran outside, toward the lake that had always been her sanctuary, tears streaming from between her fingers.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

11 _Metamorphosis _

Four days had passed since the day their lives had come unhinged. Sera and Harry spoke now only in whispered conversations. Snape hadn't come upstairs once since his last traumatic visit to Harry's bedroom, convinced that Harry's promise to Dumbledore was enough to keep them from repeating their inappropriate behavior. Once they figured out that he had no intention of gracing them with his presence, they'd relaxed enough to hold hands and sit together on the couch to watch television. They dared not leave the house, certain they'd be accused of engaging in inappropriate behavior even if they hadn't done so. Though it was a struggle not to be with her, Harry was trying to respect his mentor's wishes, hoping that this sacrifice on their part would carry some weight with Snape when he made his decisions concerning his niece.

Sera had not told Harry about the conversation she'd overheard. She hardly knew what to make of it herself. She was devastated that her uncle was planning on leaving her behind. Though she'd known all along that that was a possible outcome of his visit here, she couldn't help the disappointment and rejection that had settled over her like a cold, wet blanket at his words and the ease with which he was able to dismiss her from his life. She'd felt as though they'd established a connection, maybe even a bond, and a large part of her had become convinced that that was enough. Finding out it was not was a crushing blow. What would happen to her now?

She was also heartbroken that Harry would be leaving her any day now. She'd also known that was likely to happen when the summer came to an end, but she was even less ready to have that possibility become reality. She loved him – he'd become her whole life. And now she was going to have to live without him, and she wasn't sure how she could do that.

But what bothered her even more than the potential leave-taking from the only two people in the entire world that she cared about was that they planned on taking away from her the memories of what had been the happiest three months she'd ever spent in her entire life. She was sure she couldn't live with that, and she'd been thinking more and more about running away from here before Dumbledore came back for Harry. She went so far as to go into town to stock up on supplies that she could take with her when she fled when something happened that made her realize that there were bigger things at stake here.

##########

Harry was lying on the bed in his room, absentmindedly tossing a ball into the air and catching it, over and over. Suddenly, he heard a tapping sound on his wall. He sat up and located the source of the sound. There was a grate in the wall between his room and Sera's, presumably to allow heat to flow between the rooms. A rolled up piece of paper was sticking out of it.

Harry retrieved the paper and sat down on his bed to read it. "I need to talk to you. Some place where we can be alone. You know where. Meet me there at 10:00. Please. It's very important, or I wouldn't ask."

There was no doubt in Harry's mind that he would meet her. He retired to his room early that night, but he didn't sleep. He hadn't been lately. He lay staring at the clock until 9:45. He'd been listening for Sera to leave her room, but he must have missed her because when he peeked out and opened her bedroom door, she was gone. Harry grabbed his wand, figuring he'd need the light, slipped quietly out of the house, and walked down to the lake.

Harry arrived at the lake, expecting to see Sera sitting on their stump, but she was nowhere to be seen. "Sera?" he called softly into the darkness. He activated his wand's light and played it over the ground. He heard something moving in the water and backed away from the shore.

"I'm out here," Sera answered him.

"You're in the water?" Harry asked, surprised. He pointed his wand in her direction, but it's beam of light didn't penetrate far enough to reveal Sera.

"Yes. Come join me."

"I didn't bring my suit."

"Neither did I," was Sera's sultry reply.

"Sera, you know I promised Dumbledore I wouldn't . . ."

"I know," she said. "But I think when someone betrays you, you have the right to go back on your word."

"Betrays?" Harry repeated. "Who was betrayed? Who did the betraying?" He was confused.

"Do you know what a memory charm is?" her disembodied voice asked in the darkness.

"Of course I do," Harry told her. "Do you?"

"I can guess. He's going to do one."

"Who's going to? On who?"

"Dumbledore's going to. On me. And you. So we won't remember what happened this summer."

"He wouldn't do that!" Harry said, certain she must be wrong.

"I heard them talking, that day he was here. He wanted Uncle to stay here with you another week. The only way Uncle would agree is if Dumbledore would do a memory charm on both of us. Uncle wanted him to do it that day, but Dumbledore said he would do it when he came back to get you. He wanted to give us time to say good-bye."

Harry was dumbstruck.

"Do you believe me?" she asked.

He did. He didn't want to, but he did. "Yes," he finally admitted.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I wasn't going to tell you. I was just going to let them do it. I figured you'd be better off in the Magic Kingdom if you had no memory of ever meeting me."

"How could you think that?" Harry protested fiercely. He took a step toward the water, wishing she would come out, that he could see her. "I can't believe you didn't tell me! I would have fought them! You were just going to let this happen?!"

"I thought it was best for you. I was going to go away, so they couldn't do it to me. If I'm going to stay here, what difference would it make to them if I left now? They don't care about me. But they're not going to take my memories of the wonderful times we had this summer, especially if I'm never going to see you again."

"You're staying, then?" Harry asked, slumping his shoulders in defeat. "You know this for sure?"

"That's what Uncle told Dumbledore last week."

"But to wipe our memories clean – how could they do that? Would you come out here, please?!" he demanded.

"They're just trying to do what's right for you, Harry. Me, on the other hand, they could care less about."

"That's not true, Sera! Dumbledore's not like that."

"You know him better than I do, I guess. But obviously Uncle is able and willing to just turn his back on me. And he's the one whose opinion matters. So I was going to leave. I was all packed. I was going to leave tonight. But then everything changed, and I couldn't go without at least telling you."

"What changed, Sera?" When she didn't answer, he demanded, "Tell me what changed!"

"I'm pregnant, Harry," she said, and her words, spoken quietly, seemed to gather volume and form as they skimmed across the water until they reached him and slapped him hard across the face.

"Pregnant?" Harry repeated in a whisper. "Are you sure? " She didn't answer, and he thought probably she hadn't heard him. "Are you sure, Sera?" he asked, raising his voice.

"I'm late. I've been throwing up every morning. You didn't notice, did you? I went into town this morning to buy some things to . . . I bought a pregnancy test. I used it in the bathroom at the gas station. I saved the stick – it's there in my pants pocket if you want to look."

"I believe you," Harry said, and he did. "I don't need to look." The thought that she might just be saying this, trying to make him stay here with her, had fleetingly crossed his mind, and he was immediately ashamed of himself for thinking it and dismissed the thought. "Would you come out of there, please?" he asked, much more nicely this time.

"It's nice out here," she said. "Why don't you join me?"

Harry figured he had nothing to lose. He stripped down, extinguished his wand's light and laid it on top of his clothes, and stepped into the surprisingly warm water. He couldn't see her at all. "Where are you?"

"Right in front of you. Come on, that's it. Keep walking."

Finally, when the water was armpit deep, he stood in front of her, and he could see her at last. He took her into his arms. "I'm so sorry, Sera."

"It'll be all right, Harry," she promised him, hugging him tightly. "But we both grew up without our fathers, without any parents to speak of, and I couldn't let them do this without at least telling you. I knew you'd want to know. Then, if you didn't want . . . if you decided . . . well, at least you'd make your decision knowing everything."

"I'm glad you did," he assured her, and he kissed her, hoping to convey with that simple gesture that everything really would be all right, that somehow he would take care of her, of both of them.

He became conscious of the fact that they were skin to skin, and now that familiar beast reared its pesky head.

She must have come to the realization at the same time, because she said, "I've missed you," and her voice made gooseflesh rise on his exposed skin which had nothing to do with the humid night air and its contrast with the cooler water.

"I've missed you, too," he said, and he lifted her in his arms and joined with her in the water.

When they made their way back to shore, Harry's legs were wobbly, and he was happy to collapse onto the blanket she'd thoughtfully spread out on the ground. "You knew this would happen!" Harry accused, not at all displeased by that thought.

"I thought we'd at least make it back to the blanket," she admitted.

Sera lay back on the blanket next to him and stretched luxuriantly.

Harry turned to face her. "Whatever made you think that I'd be better off without you?"

Sera shrugged. "I can't do magic."

"And yet you've managed to stun me pretty thoroughly just the same," Harry pointed out. He placed his hand on her flat stomach. "A baby? In there?"

"I think that's where they grow," she joked.

"Rather incredible, isn't it?" He placed a gentle kiss on her belly.

"Mmmm. Are you going to want me when I'm fat?"

"You won't get fat," Harry guessed. "You'll just get sexier."

"Sexier than I am right now?" she asked, slithering silkily beneath his hands.

"Yeah, I know. I didn't think it was possible either."

Sera laughed and pulled his mouth down to hers for a kiss. "Again?" she asked, looking up at him hopefully.

Harry looked down at her, amused. She was more insatiable even than he was. "Later," he promised. "We need to talk."

The night air was humid and heavy, but after being in the water, they were both chilled, and they took a few moments to pull their clothes on. Harry transfigured rocks into pillows, and they lay on the blanket, looking up at the sky and making plans.

They had to leave – that was apparent to both of them. They couldn't allow their memories to be taken, not now. Where to go was obvious: they'd need money, and Harry had a vault full at Gringotts. But how to get there? Sera had some money, perhaps enough for two plane tickets, but neither of them had identification, and air travel was traceable. They could walk, but how far could they get on foot? They could take the truck, but if local law enforcement was notified of their disappearance, they'd be easily tracked that way.

Finally, they decided that apparition was the only way, assuming Harry could make it work with her along for the ride. He explained the risk to her: that they may leave part of her, or him, or both of them behind. He'd become quite proficient at disapparating himself, but he'd obviously never tried to bring anyone along with him, and he'd never gone a very great distance.

Harry told her that before they made the long jump across the ocean, they would practice here, so that if something went wrong, they'd be able to ask Snape for assistance. Sera evaluated the risk and agreed it was the best way.

They talked about Lenni and decided she must stay behind as Harry had never asked Snape if animals could disapparate, and he could hardly do so now, and neither of them was willing to risk the kitten's life in the attempt.

"Go pack," Harry said at last, rising to his feet and offering her a helping hand.

"I'm already packed, remember?"

"Oh, right. But only one change of clothes, okay? And all the money you can scrape together, and whatever else you can't live without. Nothing that won't fit in a backpack. This will be hard enough without luggage. Maybe you can get some food out of the kitchen. I'm not sure exactly where we're going to land and how long it will be before we can eat again.

"I'll pack, too," he continued, his mind several thoughts ahead of the words coming out of his mouth, "but I also need to study a map. I've never disapparated farther than from the house to here, and I don't want to try getting all the way back in one jump. I'll break the trip up into shorter lengths. I think it will be safer that way."

"All right," Sera agreed, willing to agree to anything if it meant she didn't have to stay behind here, alone.

Harry kissed her again, and they walked back up to the house in silence, holding tightly to each other's hand.

When Harry re-entered his room, he took out the encyclopedia he'd seen on the shelf and opened it up to the world map section. It was very old, circa 1953, but he figured the important points on the map hadn't moved much since then. He studied it, trying his best to estimate distances and noting longitude and latitude markers, then started to pack. A complete set of clothes, his wand, the Marauder's Map, the invisibility cloak. What money he had. The picture of his parents and his scrapbook.

Harry looked longingly at his new school books and then decided he wouldn't need them. He wasn't going back to Hogwarts, maybe he never would. He'd miss Hedwig. Maybe she'd find him wherever they went. She was pretty smart – it could happen. Lenni took that moment to meow at his door, and he let her in. He scooped her up and held her under his chin. He'd miss the little fur ball. He kissed her softly between the ears and set her on the bed. He sat thinking about this one last time, trying to be sure it was the only way.

He supposed they could tell Dumbledore about Sera being pregnant. Harry really believed that if Dumbledore knew, he would never subject them to memory charms. The problem was that since Dumbledore had already given Snape his word that he would do the charms, he obviously wasn't going to ask Harry and Sera if they wanted them or agreed that it was a good idea. Which probably meant that the charms were going to be performed on the sly. What if Dumbledore hit him with the spell before Harry even got a chance to open his mouth? It would be too late to explain. And Harry wouldn't remember that he was about to become a father. In a few months time, he wouldn't know that he had a child out there somewhere. And Serafina would obviously know that she was pregnant and had a child, but she wouldn't remember how or with whom she'd created the life. Those possibilities were too horrible to contemplate, and he couldn't take the risk that he wouldn't have a chance to explain before their lives were changed irrevocably.

With a sigh, Harry turned his thoughts to the logistics of what they were about to attempt. The route he'd mapped out was from here to St. John's, Newfoundland, in Canada first. From there, they'd travel to Dingle, Ireland, which was by far the largest distance and would be the most dangerous part of the journey, but there was just no other way of getting across the Atlantic. Harry figured if they made that segment of the journey successfully, they could easily make it the remaining way to London. Assuming, of course, that they were still in one piece by that time. Harry took a moment to wonder if they were insane for what they were about to do.

In her own room now, Sera went through her backpack to be sure that she had everything she needed. When she returned to the house, she'd immediately gone to the kitchen and made four peanut butter sandwiches and filled a thermos full of water, and she added these items to her three favorite books (_The Stand, Sense and Sensibility, _and _David Copperfield_), her most recent diary, a spare set of undies, another pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, the money that she had, and other miscellaneous things she thought they might need on their journey.

She spotted her basketball sitting on the chair by her bed, and she picked it up fondly. It would be hard to leave this behind, but where could she pack it? A smile stole over her face as she thought of an appropriate place. She lifted her shirt and tucked the ball beneath, placing it directly over her stomach. She looked down at herself, stunned. So this is what she would look like in a few months. She rubbed her hands over the ball, pretending it was the baby, and a sense of happiness filled her, in spite of what they were about to do. What a mess she'd gotten them into – what a glorious, awful, wonderful mess. She moved to the mirror to get a look at what life had in store for her.

When Harry was as sure as he could be that he had covered all of the bases, he quietly slipped into her room, carrying Lenni, nearly scaring the mismatched socks right off her feet when she saw his image in the mirror behind her.

"Jesus, Harry! You scared me!"

He took in her appearance, and his eyes widened in shock. "Bloody hell!" he yelped. "What are you doing?!" And she thought _he'd _scared _her_.

She blushed just a little at having been caught in her daydreams. "I was trying to decide whether I could take my basketball with us. What do you think?" She turned sideways, giving him the benefit of her full profile.

He looked down at the bulge in her midsection and said honestly, "I think that's going to take some getting used to. I assume it won't happen _that _quickly." He'd never known anyone who was pregnant, and he had no idea how quickly they grew to the size before him.

She smiled indulgently. It was apparent he wasn't as enchanted with her shape as she had been. "I think you've got a few months to adjust." She pulled the ball from beneath her shirt, gave it a quick squeeze (she didn't want to kiss it goodbye with Harry watching), and put it back on the chair. She turned to face him.

"Are you ready to try?" he asked.

She nodded and slipped the backpack over her shoulders. She kissed Lenni goodbye tearfully, put the kitten down on the bed, then told him she was ready. They walked back down to the lake. Harry was unwilling to try disapparating any closer to the house, afraid the sound would wake Snape.

"When I did this with Dumbledore earlier this summer, I held onto his arm," Harry said, holding his left arm out to her. Sera stepped around his outstretched arm until she was standing nearly in his shoes and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I like it better this way," she said.

Harry encircled her in his arms and disapparated them six feet closer to the lake.

"It worked!" she said excitedly.

"That was only a short distance," he warned her, raking his eyes over her in the dim light to ensure that she'd brought all of her body parts with her. "The longer trip is likely to be harder." His own experience with apparition, both doing it himself and with Dumbledore, told him that the longer the distance traveled, the more pronounced the after-effects. Also, they seemed worse for the one being taken along than they were for the one in control of the apparition.

"I don't care," Sera assured him. "I'm ready."

"Do you want to wait until tonight, or do you want to go now?"

"What's the point in waiting?" she asked. "We're all packed. And we don't know when Dumbledore's going to return. If he comes back this morning, we're screwed."

That was a good point. "All right. We go now. Are you sure you have everything you want?"

Sera was sure. "All I really need is you, my love."

They held on tightly to one another again, Harry concentrated with all his might, and then they were gone.

##########

St. John's is the most easterly city in North America, which is why Harry had chosen it. They had apparated at the foot of a lighthouse, whose nearby sign identified it as the Cape Spear National Historic Site. Luckily, at this time of the morning, there were no tourists milling about, and they'd arrived unnoticed. Harry quickly turned to Sera. "Are you all right?"

She looked green by the light of his wand, and instead of answering him, she turned away and vomited into the grass. After she'd emptied her stomach, she wiped her mouth and looked back at him, tears in her eyes from the effort of heaving up nothing. "Sorry," she croaked. She felt as though she'd been turned inside out.

Harry sympathized with her. He remembered what it felt like the first time he'd disapparated. Practicing his own skills had made him accustomed to the unpleasant sensations, and he hardly noticed them now. He looked her over by wandlight. She appeared to have brought everything with her: arm, legs, eyebrows, ears, nose. "It's okay. We made it. We made it!" He hugged her quickly. "Are you okay?"

"I don't feel so good," she admitted. "But that's been happening for a while. Morning sickness, I guess."

"Maybe not. Dumbledore told me that people who disapparate for the first time often feel sick. Do you want to rest for a while, or should we keep going?"

The longer they remained here, the more chance they had of being discovered. "No. We should keep moving. We're only sixteen hundred miles away. It would be too easy to bring us back if they caught us now."

Harry was pretty sure no one would catch them now. Even if they knew he'd disapparated away, how would anyone guess where they'd gone? He'd put the world map book back on the shelf where it had been. They'd left behind no clues about where they intended to go. They hadn't known themselves until minutes ago.

"Ready?" he asked. "This one will be the hard one."

When she nodded, he hugged her tight and concentrated, and they were off again.

##########

The Dingle Peninsula stretches thirty miles into the Atlantic Ocean from Ireland's southwest coast. It's rocky coastline is broken by sandy beaches, and it was on one of those beaches that Harry and Sera suddenly appeared somewhat shy of five o'clock in the morning, local time.

This time, Sera fell to her knees, retching until she felt as though her stomach itself was coming up. Harry knelt beside her, removed her backpack, and held her hair away from her face while rubbing her back, waiting for the nausea to pass. He himself had felt no ill effects from the trip, and he was anxious to get a look at her to make sure she was still whole. When she collapsed onto the sand and lay on her back with her eyes closed, he finally did, although he had to do most of it by feel, unwilling to use any more magic at all here, and he was relieved and surprised to see that they'd both come three thousand miles intact.

"Water," she gasped.

Harry rummaged around in her backpack and removed the thermos. He poured her a cup full, then helped her to sit up and drink it. "Better?" he asked when she'd finished.

"Not really," she said, and turned away and threw up the water.

Harry was getting a little worried about her. "I think it would be okay if we rested a while." It was darker than the inside of his pocket here, and if they curled up under his invisibility cloak, they'd be able to sleep for a while without fear of discovery. He really wanted to be home before they stopped, but if she needed to, they'd stay here for a while.

"No. I'm good," she assured him feebly. "One more leap left, right?"

"One more," Harry promised. "Then we can rest."

And once again, Harry took her in his arms, concentrated with all his might, and they vanished from the black seaside and reappeared in Surrey.

"Where are we?" Sera asked once she'd survived the inevitable bout of vomiting.

"Surrey. Right outside Little Whinging," Harry told her. Despite his unpleasant memories of this place, he was familiar with the area, and he knew where they could find shelter to get a little bit of sleep until daylight came fully and they could get to a bank to change Sera's US dollars into British currency.

"Where you grew up?" Sera asked.

Harry nodded affirmation.

"I've got half a mind to march right up to those awful Dursleys and give them a piece of my mind," she said, and she meant it. "Just tell me which way to go."

And as much as he might like to see that and to watch Aunt Petunia trying to figure out what to make of Sera, he had no intention of going anywhere near the Dursleys, and he told her so. "I only came here because I know the area. Come on. We can sleep for a while in here."

He wanted to get under some type of cover quickly. From prior experience, Harry knew that performing magic here was monitored by the Ministry of Magic, and he assumed that they would know that someone had just done so. He didn't know how the process worked, but he wasn't taking any chances, in case the Ministry was aware of his disappearance and were even more closely monitoring this area. If they sent someone out to check, he wanted to be well hidden. He was fairly certain that no one knew they were missing yet, and hoped that once they did, a mysterious bit of magic here wouldn't be connected to their disappearance.

He led her to a shed at the edge of a playpark, and removed tools from his backpack to open the padlock locking it. "This would be easier with magic, or a light," he muttered after five minutes with no success. He dared not use magic on the lock or even use his wand as a light source in case anyone from the Ministry was focusing on the recent magic. Sera delved into her backpack, and seconds later, a light was shining on the lock.

"What's that?" Harry asked, alarmed.

"It's called a flashlight. Surely you've heard of them," Sera said tiredly.

By the torch's light, Harry was able to pick the lock, and he led her inside. It was a maintenance shed, where tractors and lawn mowers, rakes and such were kept. Harry spread his cloak on the floor and they curled up into it together, too tired to speak, both asleep within minutes.

They awoke six hours later, just as their disappearance was being discovered back home.

##########

Dumbledore apparated into Snape's workshop very early in the morning. All arrangements had been made. After the required brief stay at Privet Drive, it was now safe to bring Harry back to Hogwarts.

"Good morning, Headmaster," Snape said without looking up from his notes. He had everything packed. All that remained was to speak with his niece, have her make the call to the appropriate people to let them know that she'd be staying here, and put the basement back the way he'd found it. He wasn't letting himself think about the separation from his niece and what that might do to her, or to him. He couldn't get past what she'd done – it had opened up too many old wounds.

And as for Potter – well, he figured they'd just continue not liking each other, though now with even more reason. Not that Potter would remember those reasons, after Dumbledore had performed the memory charm on him. Maybe he'd ask Dumbledore to make it so that Sera didn't remember anything at all about this summer or about meeting her uncle. Maybe she was better off thinking that she was alone in this world. Hoping for something that was never going to happen wasn't a good way to live your life. How well he knew that! He supposed Dumbledore would never agree to wipe Harry's memory completely clean of this summer. The boy had learned too much under Snape's tutelage to undo it all now.

"Good morning, Severus," Dumbledore said. "All is well, I trust."

Snape shrugged. It wasn't, but it was all that could be expected at the moment.

"You've arrived at a decision concerning your niece?"

"I told you when you were here last that I had done so," Snape pointed out.

"I was rather hoping you'd reconsider," Dumbledore said. "Once that decision is made, it will be difficult to undo."

Snape knew that once he left here, he'd likely never see the girl again. A large part of him was saddened by that fact. He'd come to like her very much. She had the family gift for potions, but even more than that, she'd brought color, music and laughter into his dark, silent life. She and Potter both, though there was no way he was admitting that, even to himself, especially now. But the part of him that had lived with and fed off the darker feelings of betrayal and mistrust for almost his entire life controlled him now, as it always had. "I'm willing to live with that."

Dumbledore sighed. Why did people have to be so stubbornly obtuse when they'd been hurt? The larger picture was out there for all to see if they could just get beyond the immediacy of their acute feelings.

"Well then, I guess we'd better get to it. I'll go up and speak with Harry and take him away. Has he packed?"

"I didn't know when you were coming, sir," Snape pointed out. He didn't mention that he hadn't spoken with either Sera or Harry since their last meeting about anything, and hadn't even set eyes on them.

"Well, it shouldn't take him long, in any event," Dumbledore guessed.

"And the memory charms?" Snape reminded him.

Dumbledore had hoped Snape had forgotten about that. But he had given his word to Severus, and he intended to keep it, despite his misgivings. "I'll look in on Sera before going to Harry, to say good-bye. I'll do it then."

"And Potter?"

"Yes, I'll take care of Harry's memory as well."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

"Thank _you_, Severus. Despite how everything turned out, you did amazingly well here with Harry this summer. He's come a long way from the grief-stricken boy you brought here."

"Apparently you don't have me to thank for that."

"Don't sell yourself short, Severus. Well, I'll go up now. Once Harry and I have gone, you can make your arrangements with Serafina."

"Yes, sir."

Dumbledore made his way up the stairs and was again met by Lenni. "Hello again," he said to the cat and scooped her up. He wasn't surprised to find the upper level showed no sign of life: teenagers and early mornings were not a good mix. He tapped gently on Serafina's closed door and waited for her reply. When he got none, he knocked again, more loudly this time. Finally, he pushed her door open. The room wasn't large enough for it to take more than a couple of seconds to realize she wasn't in it.

He closed the door again and tapped on Harry's door. When there was no immediate response, a distressing feeling began to tickle inside his brain. He knocked again and then opened the door without waiting for a response. This room, too, was empty, and Dumbledore knew that this day was not going to go quite as he'd expected.

"Severus, would you come up here, please?"

While waiting for Snape to come up the stairs, Dumbledore hurriedly searched Harry's room. It appeared as though all of his clothes were still here, although Dumbledore had no way of knowing that with certainty, but the important things – his wand, his invisibility cloak – and his rucksack were nowhere to be found, confirming Dumbledore's suspicions that Harry and Sera weren't simply out taking a walk. He picked up the sketch Sera had done of Harry, which Harry had left behind in his haste, and was holding it when Snape walked into the room.

"They're gone, Severus," he said simply.

"Gone? They can't be gone. I just saw them . . ." Snape thought back. When _had _he last seen them?

"Last night," he finished. Though he hadn't actually _seen _them last night. He'd heard them, both of them he was sure, moving around up here last night at dinner time. He hadn't been eating with them since . . . but he knew they'd been here last night.

"So they've got a rather large head start on us, I'm afraid. Where could they be, Severus?"

Snape didn't answer, but went into Serafina's room, not really believing that they'd left. There had to be another explanation. They were just outside somewhere, they had to be. He looked around in her room, then had to admit to himself that he had no way of knowing what might be missing. He'd never been in here before.

"I don't know, Headmaster," he finally said.

"Well, wherever they've gone, they've left you behind, haven't they?" Dumbledore asked Lenni, stroking the kitten's head. Lenni purred happily.

"What now?" Snape asked, guilt and worry beginning to creep into his gut.

"Let's try to figure out where they might be and how they might have gotten there. Wait a moment." Dumbledore closed his eyes, concentrating on Harry. Hard as he might try, all he saw was a black curtain that he could not lift. Despite how much more difficult it made the current situation, Dumbledore had to chuckle. "Well done, Harry." He was satisfied that if he couldn't access Harry's thoughts, neither could Voldemort. That was something. He tried again, this time concentrating on Sera, but he had very little connection with the girl, and legillimency was so much easier over any distance when one had a strong connection with the person whose mind you were trying to penetrate.

"Could he have disapparated out of here?" Dumbledore asked.

"He could have, but he couldn't have gone far. He's not capable of disapparating any great distance by himself, let alone the side-along apparition that would have been required to take Serafina with him. He just hasn't had enough practice. Besides, I would have heard them."

"We've underestimated his talent before," Dumbledore mused, not bothering to point out that they could have gone some distance from the house to disapparate for that very reason. "But this time, I tend to agree with you. That type of ability would take at least months to master. So we concentrate our search locally, assuming that they must have left on foot. No broomstick at his disposal, I assume?"

"No enchanted ones," Snape confirmed. The broom Harry had ridden on his birthday had returned to its ordinary state and duties, sweeping floors, after Harry had finished riding it. The boy certainly didn't know how to enchant a broomstick to make it fly. Did he? Then a thought struck Snape. "There's a vehicle. Serafina drives it."

They hurried to the barn, but there sat the decrepit old pickup truck. "Well, they're not driving. On foot, then."

"Do we alert the local authorities?" Snape asked, wondering how they'd explain this to law enforcement officials and the state authorities responsible for Serafina's welfare.

"Not yet," Dumbledore decided, mulling over those same difficulties. "Let's see what we can find first."

And they looked, for miles in all directions, figuring that with even a substantial head start, the teenagers couldn't have gotten that far on foot. The area was wooded though, and if they knew they were being searched for, as they probably did at this point, Harry and Sera had plenty of hiding places to choose from.

From time to time, Dumbledore tried to access Harry's thoughts, hoping just once to get through, but each time, the curtain remained in place, leaving him completely in the dark as to Harry's whereabouts. His pride in Harry's ability was somewhat lessened by the certainty that he was going to wring the young man's neck when he saw him next.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

12 _Journey_

Harry awoke on the hard floor of the shed with Sera, still sleeping, beside him, not realizing at first what had woken him. He took a moment to ponder the sheer luck they'd had so far, making it this far without leaving some part of themselves behind in another country. Had he known how difficult the task actually was that he'd accomplished, he probably never would have attempted it.

He turned his attention to Sera, even more beautiful in sleep than she was awake. He hoped he'd done the right thing, bringing her here. As he stared at her, he felt the black curtain fluttering, and he guessed right away that their absence had been discovered and that someone was attempting to locate them by accessing his thoughts. (Dumbledore? Snape? Dumbledore probably. Snape had told him that legillimency was difficult over long distances. Dumbledore, being the much more powerful wizard, was probably capable of reaching Harry here.) Ha! he said to himself. Not so easy now, is it? He guessed it was a prior attempt that had woken him.

He checked his watch and reckoned it was time they got moving. People would begin showing up here at any time, assuming they hadn't already on this Sunday morning, and it wouldn't do for them to be found, not so close to the Dursleys especially. Someone might recognize him. "Sera," he said, smoothing her hair back away from her face. "Sweetheart, it's time to get up."

Her eyes fluttered open, then she closed them again quickly. How was it possible to feel dizzy while lying flat? If this was morning sickness, she wasn't sure she'd survive this pregnancy.

"Good morning," she said after a deep, hopefully steadying breath. She opened her eyes again and smiled up at Harry.

He smiled back at her, then bent close to give her a quick kiss. "Good morning. Hungry?"

Her stomach flipped over at the thought. "Not really. You go ahead and eat. I brought sandwiches."

Harry rummaged in her backpack and removed two sandwiches. "You really should eat," he said, holding one out to her.

She sat up, fighting the shock to her equilibrium that simple movement produced. "I'll try," she said, taking the sandwich. She nibbled at the crust as Harry wolfed his sandwich down. She took another out and tossed it to him. "Go ahead and finish them. We can get something else later." Harry ate the remaining two sandwiches, then the half that Sera didn't eat, and washed them down with a large drink of water.

"Think they know we're gone yet?" Sera asked.

Harry nodded. "I'm sure of it. I think we need to get to the nearest bank and change your money over. Damn! It's Sunday! We won't be able to visit a bank until tomorrow. Well, perhaps we can find someplace that will take your currency. If not, well . . . we'll just have to hold out until tomorrow. " It wouldn't be the first time either one of them had gone without food.

"_I_ think we need to get to a bathroom first," she pointed out. "So how are we getting to London?"

Harry helped her to her feet and began packing away the remains from their breakfast and folding up his invisibility cloak. "It's about twelve miles to London from here. (AN: I got this number from the Harry Potter Lexicon, where it states that "Little Whinging is located approximately 12 miles from the Leaky Cauldron.") Up for a walk?"

##########

It had taken eight days to walk to London. Sera's condition didn't allow them to move very fast, and they had to stop frequently for rest breaks and water. Harry was getting quite impatient with the pace, but every time he looked at Sera's drawn, pale face, he held his annoyance inside. On the first day, they hadn't been able to find a merchant who would accept Sera's American money from a couple of teenagers, and they'd gone without food.

On Day Two, they'd visited the first bank they came across and converted all of Sera's money into pounds, convinced now that they'd be able to stay alive until they could access Harry's vault at Gringott's. They'd been sleeping outdoors at night, wrapped up in Harry's cloak, and walking during the day. They tried to avoid heavy traffic areas, but when they couldn't, they walked under the cloak, because they never knew who might be watching. On the more deserted stretches of road, they took the chance of walking uncovered.

Hygiene was accomplished in public restrooms, by splashing water on their faces, washing out one set of underclothes while wearing the other, applying a layer of deodorant over yesterday's layer of sweat and dirt, brushing their teeth. Sera especially was troubled by the inability to wash her hair, and her normally gleaming tresses hung dull and lifeless after only a few days, reminding Harry very much of her uncle, though he was tactful enough not to say so.

It was slow going, but they had no real motivation to hurry, other than Sera's money running out, and they were good for a couple of weeks if they didn't spend it on hotels. They bought food as they went, although Sera wasn't eating much. She had no appetite, and when she forced herself to eat, it usually came right back up. Harry was getting more and more worried about her – she'd already visibly lost weight, and he didn't know how much longer she could continue this way.

When they reached London, Harry realized it was September 1 and that his classmates were on their way to Hogwarts to start a new term. For the first time in six years, Harry wouldn't be joining them. What would Ron and Hermione think when he didn't show up? Would everyone know why? Would Harry Potter once again be the subject of everyone's gossip? Harry shook his head to dispel these thoughts. He was where he needed to be right now, and that was all that mattered.

Harry convinced Sera to rent a hotel room on the edge of the city. He didn't want her going into Diagon Alley with him for many reasons. He might be captured there, although he didn't know if "captured" was the right term. They hadn't committed any crime, after all. Still, it was possible that the larger wizarding world had been alerted to his disappearance and that everyone was on the lookout for him. He planned to wear his cloak until he got into the bank. He was depending on the goblins' infamous discretion to keep word of his visit there from leaking out. If someone tried to grab him up and keep him there, he didn't want Sera caught up as well. He told her that if he wasn't back by late that evening, she was to go to the US embassy in London and explain as best she could how she'd gotten there without a passport or papers of any kind and ask for help.

He also didn't want her with him because he knew she wasn't quite ready for the things she'd see in Diagon Alley. She'd come to terms with Harry and her uncle being wizards and had seen them performing magic all summer, to the point where it had become something she no longer marveled at. But Harry remembered his first time in Diagon Alley and knew she'd see things there that had never even entered her imagination: goblins, giants, hags, floating heads, who knew what?

So they found a ratty hotel on the edge of the city that would let them a room without identification and for cash. After they'd both showered for the first time in over a week, he left her there, wondering if she was safer in that fleabag than she'd be by his side. He didn't leave until he heard her lock and chain the door, and his steps were hurried by the thought that he didn't want her there alone any longer than she needed to be. As soon as he left, Sera collapsed onto the bed, not allowing herself to worry about whether it was clean or not, and fell into a deep sleep from which she didn't awaken until Harry returned.

##########

Harry's visit to Gringott's had gone as well as he could have expected. He'd worn his cloak into the Leaky Cauldron and waited until someone else opened the archway to Diagon Alley, then slipped through. He kept to the edges of the buildings, flattening himself against a window more than once when the sparse crowd threatened to brush against him.

He made it to the bank and slipped inside behind someone else. He stood in the lobby until the amount of traffic had slowed as much as it was probably going to, then slipped into the loo and removed his cloak in the stall, tucking it into his backpack. Keeping his head down, he approached the first free goblin, produced his key, and asked to be taken to his vault.

The goblin who escorted him down into the bowels of the earth didn't seem inclined to chat, and Harry was just as happy to remain silent on the ride down. He loaded his backpack with as much as he dared, suspecting that if he had to make this trip again, his chances of being caught at least doubled.

He then told his escort that he'd like to convert all he'd taken to pounds. The goblin simply nodded as though this were an everyday request and escorted Harry back topside. Once there, the goblin handled the transaction with no questions asked and handed Harry his money.

Harry slipped into the loo again, put his cloak back on, and exited Diagon Alley the same way he'd come. When he returned to the hotel room, he'd had to bang on the door for a couple of minutes before Sera woke and let him back in.

"So now what?" she asked after she'd eyed the large stack of money Harry had placed on the bed.

##########

"Severus, it is time for us to pack up and go home," Dumbledore advised Snape.

"But, sir, they're still out there somewhere," Snape protested feebly.

They'd been looking for the runaways for over a week, and had come across no sign of them. They had decided that if there was no word from them or if they didn't turn up soon, they had no choice but to involve local law enforcement authorities. They'd avoided notifying the wizarding community back home of Harry's disappearance, sure that Voldemort would double his efforts to locate Harry if he knew Harry was outside Dumbledore's immediate protection. Dumbledore _had _gone to the Secretary of the US Council on Magic on the second day and informed him of their situation, and they had received the complete cooperation of the local wizarding community (including Karen Crawford, who had made a several personal visits to Snape to offer whatever assistance she could), but still Harry and Sera had managed to evade them. Harry would have been easy enough to track back home, if he was using magic, but since there was no restriction on sixteen-year olds performing magic in this country, no one was watching for it, and they had no way of knowing if it was happening.

"They're no longer here," Dumbledore advised him. "My source inside Gringott's Bank informs me that Harry visited his vault yesterday and withdrew a large sum of money, which he then had converted into pounds. They're back home."

Snape was astounded. "They're sure it was him?"

"Had they any doubt, they never would have let him into the vault. It was him. Right down to the scar."

"And was . . . was Serafina with him?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "They saw no one with him. They did not see him enter or leave the building. I suspect he used his cloak to slip in and out without detection. It is possible Miss Mallory was somewhere nearby."

"But how did they get there? Is it possible they flew? In an airplane, I mean?"

"Council officials assure me they were watching for that very thing. Neither of them has a passport, and even if they'd managed to come up with documentation somehow, no one fitting their descriptions has boarded an airplane in this country in the last week."

"Canada, perhaps?" Snape asked, speculating out loud.

"Perhaps. Perhaps we won't know the truth of how they managed to pull this off until we catch up with them. And we _will _catch up with them, Severus. But it makes no sense to remain here any longer."

"And what do you propose we do about the social services people who will want an explanation for Serafina's absence?"

"I've spoken with Council officials about that as well," Dumbledore told him. "They'll simply make her disappear, from the records and from the memories of anyone here who ever met her, which will make it difficult for her to return at any point in the future without their cooperation. But it's either that, or we just leave, and the authorities here think you kidnapped your niece and world-wide alerts are issued for your arrest. I prefer the former option."

Snape smiled weakly. "As do I."

"They have offered, however, to see to this house and the land. Should we request it, they will administer the estate on Sera's behalf and ensure that the proceeds are kept safely for her benefit. And they'll also keep an eye on the house, should the fugitives decide to return here. I find that unlikely, given that Harry converted his money into pounds, but it doesn't hurt to cover all of the bases."

"Very well," Snape nodded his approval. "I'm packed and ready when you are."

"I'm going to pack Harry's things. He'll need them when he returns to school," Dumbledore said with more assurance than he felt. That Harry had managed to keep ahead of them for more than a week and actually make it out of the country had astonished him. With the financial resources at his disposal and that head on his shoulders, it might be a long time before they saw Harry Potter again if that's what Harry wanted. "If there's anything that you think Serafina might want, I would suggest you pack it for her and bring it with us."

"And what do we do with that?" Snape asked, indicating Lenni, who was pouncing on a dustball that had emerged from under the refrigerator.

Dumbledore scooped Lenni up. "Well, we can't leave her here, can we? She'll have to go with us."

##########

Harry and Sera stayed at different cheap, disreputable hotels in London for the first two nights after their arrival in the city. On the third day, they stumbled across a little furnished cottage at the end of a deserted lane on the outskirts of the city which was advertised as for let. They spoke to the elderly owners who lived in a larger house nearby, and although they were suspicious about the very young couple who wouldn't really answer any of their questions, they needed the money that Harry made sure they got a look at and buried their hesitation and accepted them as tenants.

They moved in their meager possessions and tried to make the little house a home, with no idea how long they'd be here. Their first week passed quietly. Sera, still suffering from bouts of morning sickness that lasted all day, kept the little place clean and cooked their meals. Harry tried to keep busy during the day, but it grew increasingly difficult because there was just nothing to do here except think about where he should be, where he _would _be now if he hadn't gotten them into this mess. His inability to use magic at all only compounded his misery, as did the fact that he hadn't flown for weeks and should be training hard for his first quidditch match. He tried to keep these feelings at bay, but with each day that passed, it became more difficult. When he was alone, he thought about Ron and Hermione, wondering how often they stopped to think about him, sure that they missed him as much as he missed them.

##########

The argument which had started on their daily post-lunch walk dogged behind them into the house. It had started over nothing, as arguments sometimes do, but neither one was willing to let it go. Just before reaching the front door, Harry had commented on the fact that Sera was better off than he was because she had had time to get to know her mother, whereas he had been so young when his parents died that he didn't know either of them. They would have needed a map to retrace the wandering trail their argument had taken to reach this point.

"Your logic is a little screwed up there, chum," she told him, opening the door and going inside. "You're saying that it doesn't matter how lousy my mother might have made my life by being in it?"

Harry followed her in and closed the door behind him. "At least you got to know her."

"At least you had a roof over your head every night," she pointed out.

"At least you didn't have a cousin who was twice as big as you pounding you every other day just for fun."

"At least you didn't have to get up at four in the morning to milk some stupid cows."

"Your mother made you milk cows?" Harry asked, confused.

"No, my grandmother."

"We were talking about your mother and how miserable she made your life," Harry reminded her. "Try to stay on topic."

"Well, now we're talking about how miserable my grandmother made my life!" Sera said heatedly. "Besides, I thought we were trying to figure out which one of us was more pathetic."

Harry couldn't suppress a smile at that. They _were _trying to one-up each other in the most miserable childhood contest. Who would ever want to be the winner of that sweepstakes?

"At least you didn't receive used socks for a Christmas present!" he offered, but the tenor of the argument had changed, at least for him, to a much more playful one.

"At least you _got _a Christmas present," she countered, studying him, sensing the change in his mood but not understanding it.

"At least you didn't have to wear hand-me-down clothes that were three sizes too big for you."

"At least you didn't have to wear the same filthy clothes for days at a time."

"At least you didn't have to scrub the driveway with a toothbrush," Harry said.

"You did not!" she challenged, not believing that the Dursleys had actually made him do that particular awful chore.

"You're right," he admitted. "But at least you didn't have to live with people whose greatest joy was pretending you didn't exist." He smiled at her, wanting her to realize that he wasn't arguing with her any more.

She, on the other hand, wasn't ready to concede defeat. "At least you weren't traded for drugs!" She looked near tears.

Harry's smile faltered. That obviously wasn't a topic to be joked about. "Sera, I . . . I'm sorry. I . . ."

Now Sera smiled, triumphantly. "I win!" she crowed.

Harry realized she'd played him. "You evil little . . ."

"What, Harry? What am I?" she taunted.

"You're a cheater!" he declared, unable to come up with anything better that he actually dared to say to her.

"No, what I am is a winner!" she gloated. She opened the refrigerator and bent to place the chops they'd bought for supper inside. She felt Harry step up behind her, and she straightened up.

"I think you need to be taught a lesson in how to play fair," he said into her ear as his arms snaked around her waist.

"And do you think you're man enough to teach me?" she challenged.

He pulled her tight against him, pressing his groin into her backside. "What do you think?"

"I think we haven't christened the kitchen yet."

##########

By the second week, they were barely talking to each other. There was no overt hostility; neither was angry with the other. They'd simply stopped communicating. They continued to take long walks after lunch, and in the evening, they watched television together, but they hardly ever spoke. For two people who hadn't been able to stop sharing everything about themselves since the day they'd met, the silence was strange and uncomfortable. A sleeping monster lay between them, and neither wanted to poke the beast and risk waking it, because once it woke, the carnage it could wreak might not be repairable. The monster's name was Hogwarts. Even being able to share the comfort of each other's bodies whenever the urge struck wasn't enough to keep the growing storm at bay forever.

##########

"You have to eat," Harry said more forcefully than he'd intended as Sera, once again, pushed her untouched plate away from her.

"Don't tell me what I have to do!" Sera snapped, and to her amazement and his, she burst into tears.

Harry stared at her, unmoved. What had he done to cause that? One part of him wanted to reach over and comfort her, but he figured they had to have this out sooner or later. It had been going on too long already. Now was as good a time as any. He sat back and waited for the storm to pass, his arms crossed stoically in front of him. When she finally stopped crying, he said, a little more gently, "You haven't been eating enough to keep a bird alive. You need it, and the baby needs it."

Sera sniffed pitifully and wiped her eyes with a napkin. "I know. I just can't! I'll just throw it up again."

"Maybe we need to take you to see a doctor," he suggested, for perhaps the thirtieth time.

"A doctor won't help," she told him. "I read about morning sickness. It usually lasts for the first twenty or so weeks, and then it goes away. There's really nothing that can be done to stop it, so there's nothing a doctor could do."

Harry counted quickly in his head. "So you'll be feeling this way for another three months?! There must be _something _they can do!" Surely they didn't let pregnant women suffer for that long. Surely they didn't allow unborn babies to go malnourished just because their mothers couldn't keep food in their stomachs.

Sera shook her head emphatically. "The only thing going to the doctor will do is get us caught."

"What makes you think that?"

"Maybe they're watching doctor's offices, waiting for us to show up there!" she said a little hysterically, aware that she was being irrational, but unable to change the fact that she felt as though they were being watched constantly, that if she turned around suddenly on the street, she'd find someone there, quickly feigning interest in something else, like some incompetent private investigator on a bad television show.

"Sweetheart, there's no reason to think that they know you're pregnant," Harry said reasonably. "Why would they be watching doctor's offices?"

"I don't know," she said miserably. "It just feels like we can't live our life because we always have to worry that someone is watching. Maybe I'm getting paranoid."

Harry had felt this way, too, and he understood what she was saying. He reached over and held her hand. "I know. I feel it, too. And it's not paranoia if someone is actually looking for you. We just have to give it a little time."

She snatched her hand away. "Time for what?" she demanded.

"Time for things to work out," he said vaguely, without any idea how they were going to do so.

"And what happens if we're still 'waiting for things to work out' when the baby comes? What then? Do you want your son born in this tiny little cabin? What if something goes wrong? What if we need a doctor? Have you thought about any of this?"

My son. Those words shot a bolt of feeling through Harry – fear, pride, happiness, more fear, expectation, anxiety. Harry tamped them down because they weren't helpful to the situation at hand. He _had _thought about what would happen when it was time for the baby to come, but only in general terms. Obviously, once it was time, they'd need to go to the hospital. He didn't know how they'd explain themselves when they got there, and he really didn't care. His child _wasn't _going to be born here. But that was a bridge that needed to be crossed much later. If she didn't start eating soon, his child wouldn't be around long enough for them to worry about his birth. His _child_.

"I have," he assured her. "And I will take care of you. Both of you."

"How, Harry?" she demanded. "We can't live here forever, with you sneaking off to the bank every time we need money. Eventually, it will run out. Or they'll catch you. And then what will happen to us?"

"I don't know, Sera," he said, exasperated that she was pushing this now. "Maybe we should have just stayed back in America and let them wipe our memories clean!"

"Is that what you want?" she asked, the tears starting again. "Why did you bring me here if you wanted to be rid of me?"

"I don't want to be rid of you, Sera! I came here with you, didn't I?"

"Do you think I don't see how much you hate it, though?!" Sera couldn't help it. She kicked the sleeping beast as hard as she could. It was time to wake him up and see just how much damage he could do. "Do you think I don't know how much you want to be back at school?! I can see it in your eyes every time you look at me! You were made for better things! You can't live like this forever, and you know it! I'm holding you back, and you're beginning to resent me for it!"

"I can't talk to you when you're like this!" Harry said, getting up from the table so quickly he knocked his chair backward, afraid he'd say something he could never take back if he stayed here a minute longer and that the beast would do permanent damage. Too much of what she'd said was true. "I'm going out!"

"No, Harry! Don't leave me!" Sera cried.

But Harry didn't look back. He stormed out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

"Harry!" Sera moaned, clutching her stomach and getting to her feet quickly as well, although it was to the bathroom that she ran, where once again she gave back what little she'd eaten.

When she was sure there was no more, she threw herself onto the bed and cried herself into a headache. Why had she pushed him so? Why couldn't she just have let him be? What was wrong with the way things were? They were happy here, weren't they? What if he never came back? What if he just kept on going, back to school, back to his old life? What if she never saw him again? What if their baby grew up never knowing him?

She was so relieved when she heard the door open some time later that she sat up and tried to wipe the tears away so he wouldn't know she'd been crying, wouldn't know that she'd let doubt creep in. But he came to her directly, and he knew.

"Sera," he said. "I'm sorry." He sat beside her and took her into his arms, and she couldn't help it – she cried again, this time in relief that he'd come back to her, that she hadn't driven him away forever.

"No, I'm sorry!" she wailed. "I shouldn't have pushed you! You're so wonderful to me, and I'm being such a bitch! Can you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive, Sera. I shouldn't have left you. I know things aren't that great, and I wish I knew how this was all going to turn out, but I don't. I only know that I love you, and that I love our baby, and that I _will _keep the two of you safe."

"I believe you," she said, wanting desperately to do so. "I was just so afraid that you weren't coming back. That you missed school and your friends too much. That I'd driven you away."

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss Hogwarts and Ron and Hermione," Harry confessed. "But there's no place else I want to be right now." He kissed her cheeks, tasting her salty tears, sorry he'd made her cry.

"Oh, Harry! Thank you for coming back to me!" She pulled him close and kissed him. He pushed her gently backward onto the bed and lay beside her, kissing her still, their argument quickly forgotten in their mounting passion.

Afterward they lay side by side, only their hands touching. They talked late into the night, apologizing once again, planning for their future, and avowing their love for one another and their baby. Finally drowsy, Sera dropped off to sleep. Harry watched over her for a time, gently stroking her hair, his affection for her rippling through him like liquid heat when she smiled in her sleep. As he lay there watching her, he reached a decision. He had a feeling she'd need some convincing, but he felt it was the only course available to them, and he practiced what he'd say to her in his head until he, too, fell asleep.

Some time later, in the wee hours of the morning, something woke Sera, and she stared up at the ceiling for a time, thinking about their argument yesterday and their situation. There was a lot she didn't know – like where she'd be a month from now, what they'd do when the baby came, how they'd survive going into the future – but there were two things she _did _know. She loved Harry Potter, with all of her heart, and she loved the little child growing within her with a love she'd never known was possible. As long as Harry didn't leave her or send her away, she thought she could deal with anything.

Harry snorted in his sleep and turned onto his back. Sera smiled at him and snuggled close to him. Still sleeping, Harry put an arm around her and pulled her closer. Sera rested her head on his chest, placing her ear directly over his heart. She listened to its beating rhythm pulse through her for a time before moving her head to rest on his shoulder. She should sleep now. She closed her eyes and waited for sleep to take her, but it didn't come right away. She tried to match her breathing to Harry's deep, measured pace, but that didn't feel right. She waited half a breath, then inhaled while Harry exhaled, and exhaled while Harry breathed in. It was as though they were giving each other the precious gift of life, over and over with each breath. Sera fell asleep this way, convinced that one could not survive without the other.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

13 _Safety_

Harry fixed breakfast for Sera the next morning and put it in front of her. "Eat," he said with an encouraging smile. "Please." Though she didn't know it, this was a test. If she ate what he gave her, and kept it in her stomach, they would continue living here as they were. If she couldn't, things had to change.

Though she didn't know she was facing a test, Sera did sense that this was important, for many reasons, and she tried, _really _tried. She ate the eggs he'd scrambled and the toast he'd toasted, and she tried with all of her might to keep them down, but you can't fight the tide, and you can't contain the contents of your stomach when they've decided they want out, and minutes later, she was in the bathroom, heaving them up again.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she panted, laying on the bed. He'd led her here, and he now wiped her face with a cool cloth.

"I know," he said soothingly. "It's not your fault."

He sat on the bed beside her. "There's something I want to talk to you about, something I've been thinking about since last night." He took one of her hands in his. He turned it over and traced her life line down her palm. His touch sent an electric shock through her, and she shuddered slightly, partly from that touch and partly from the memory of their first fight.

Sera closed her eyes, pretty certain she didn't want to hear what was coming next. Her nighttime fears came back to her, all the more scary in the daylight. He'd decided to leave her. Or to make her go back. Or something.

"Look at me," he ordered gently. When she did, he saw the fear in her eyes.

"Sera, you know I love you. But I'm worried about you, and I'm worried about the baby, and I don't think we can go on like this much longer. If it was just you and me, I'd stay here for the rest of my life." They both knew he didn't mean this. He'd go barking mad if all he had to look forward to for the rest of his life was endless days stretched out in front of him with nothing productive to do. But it _wasn't_ just the two of them, so it was easy to say. If it _had _been just the two of them, they wouldn't even be here. They both knew that. "I think we need help."

Sera took a calming breath. She was not going to cry. That wouldn't help at all. "What do you want me to do?" she asked resignedly, unable to continue looking at him, not wanting him to see the tears that had sprung there despite her resolution.

"I don't want _you _to do anything," he corrected. "It's _us_, Sera. Look at me, please."

She did, and she tried to smile at his words, but it wasn't a smile that made it all the way to her watery eyes. "So what do you want _us _to do?"

"I've been trying to figure out who we could go to. It needs to be someone I trust, because no matter who we choose, they're not going to allow us to live like this any more, on our own, and we need to be prepared for that."

"And this is what you want?" Sera asked flatly, feeling again the personal rejection, even if it wasn't what he intended. But she didn't look away from him again.

"No, it isn't. Not really. I've told you about my mother, how she died. She made the greatest sacrifice anyone can make for their child. She died for me. And I think about our baby, and I'm worried, Sera, because you can't eat, and it's not your fault and I'm not blaming you, but it's not good for him. He's growing and he needs stuff, and he's not getting it. And what kind of parent would I be if I allowed that to continue just because I like playing house with his mum?"

His words hit home, as he'd suspected they would. He knew that she loved this baby already. He had heard her, when she thought Harry couldn't hear, singing to the baby, lullabies at bedtime, cheerful kids songs during the day. She sometimes daydreamed out loud, without even realizing she was doing it he suspected, about their life with a baby in it, about them being a family forever, with additional children at some point in the future. He'd even heard her having conversations with the baby. ("So what do you think we should have for supper? _Pause_. How about steak and kidney pie?_ Pause. _I know, it's not my favorite either, but your daddy likes it. _Pause_. I agree – that _is_ a good enough reason. So steak and kidney pie it is.")

Sera knew he was right – this situation couldn't last forever without dire consequences for the little life growing inside her – but she was scared, and she couldn't help the sob that escaped. "I'm afraid they'll send me back, Harry, and that I'll be all alone!"

"I won't let them, Sera! That's a promise," Harry said sincerely.

She wanted so badly to believe him! She sat up and hugged him. "I couldn't bear to be apart from you," she muttered in his ear. "I'd die." She pulled him down beside her on the bed, and they lay holding hands. "So who did you pick?" she finally asked. "To go to, I mean."

"Mrs. Weasley. She's my friend Ron's mum. I think she'll listen. I think she's the only one who'll listen."

"When?"

"Tomorrow?" he suggested.

She nodded in agreement. Tomorrow. Life as she knew it would be over tomorrow. But as long as whatever life she was left with contained Harry, she thought she'd be able to make do. "So it's possible that, after tonight, we might not be able to . . . be together for a while?"

Harry nodded. "It's possible, I suppose."

"This might be our last chance to . . . be together then? At least for a while?"

Harry nodded again, trying to ignore her hand, which was attempting to work its way beneath his clothes.

"Wonder what we should do about that," she said innocently.

"Did you have a suggestion?" he asked, knowing full well that she did. Probably many.

"Well, I could do this," she said, curling her hand around his engorging cock, pulling a gasp from his lips, "and you could do that." She smiled, a devilish, satisfied smile.

"Or," he said, his breath coming faster, "I could do this." He rolled onto her, landing between her legs, pressing his erection into her, seeking her through their clothing, and kissed her deeply, and she thought that yes, maybe that would work, too.

##########

When they got into bed that night, Sera turned to him and sweetly said, "So _this _might be our last chance to be together for a while?"

And when they woke up the next morning, she said "So this might _really _be our last chance to be together for a while?" And this time, they knew she meant it, and it was all the sweeter for its desperation.

##########

"And you're sure leaping is the only way to get there?" Sera asked, not looking forward to repeating the experience.

"Disapparating," Harry corrected. "It's not the only way, but it's certainly the quickest."

Sera sighed. "All right. I'm ready."

They'd packed all of their belongings, which still fit into two backpacks, paid the elderly couple the last of their rent, and they were now ready to go. Sera had insisted on eating a little something so she'd have something to throw up when they arrived. She stepped into Harry's embrace, kissed him hard on the mouth, and they disappeared.

##########

Harry was shooting for the field beside the Burrow, hoping that Mrs. Weasley would be in the house and wouldn't notice their sudden appearance here. She was nowhere in sight, and he heaved a sigh of relief. Sera heaved up the piece of bread she'd eaten before they'd left. When she had herself back together, Harry took her hand and said, "Let's go."

Harry was counting on Mrs. Weasley being at home alone. The Weasley children were all grown and gone or at school, and Mr. Weasley should be at work. He guessed he was correct in his assumption because the house was quiet when he knocked on the door. He had made Sera stand a bit off to his side, out of the immediate view of whoever opened the door, just in case it wasn't Mrs. Weasley.

But it was, and the look of surprise when she opened the door to find the missing Harry Potter on her doorstep would have made Harry laugh if he'd dared. Instead, he said, "Hello, Mrs. Weasley."

"Merlin's beard, Harry Potter!"she said, a hand to her heart. "What are you doing here? Where have you been? Do you realize that everyone is looking for you? Do you know how much trouble you've caused? Oh, never mind all that. Come here," she opened her arms to him, and he stepped into her embrace. "Oh, we've all been so worried. How could you do this? Are you all right?"

Muffled by her embrace, Harry said, "I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley. Really."

She released him from the hug but didn't let him go. She held him at arm's length and looked him up and down. "Well, you look all right. Come in, then. We'll contact Dumbledore directly. He'll be happy to know you're not dead. Or worse." She turned and started into the house.

"What could be worse than dead, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry joked, feeling suddenly light-hearted just to be in her presence.

"You know what could be worse than dead, Harry Potter!" she scolded. "We were worried You-Know-Who had got you. Well, get in here!" she ordered when he still hadn't moved off the doorstep.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, but we can't come in unless you agree to hear us out before contacting anyone."

"'We', dear?"

Harry held out his hand to Sera, then tugged her next to his side so that Mrs. Weasley could see her.

Mrs. Weasley's hand flew to cover her mouth, but she recovered quickly. "And this must be Serafina. Come in, dear. You look positively waif-like!" Sera did indeed look like a good wind would take care of her.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said again. "But until you agree . . ."

"Yes, yes, dear. All right. I'll listen to you." She'd agree to anything to get him in here. "I won't contact anyone until you've had your chance to tell me what in God's green earth you were thinking."

Mrs. Weasley fussed around them as they made themselves at home at the kitchen table. Harry was glad he'd come here. This place was one of the few that had ever felt like a home to him, and it was comforting just to be sitting here. After Mrs. Weasley had poured them cups of tea and set a plate of biscuits in front of them, she sat opposite them.

"Talk," she ordered.

"First, Mrs. Weasley, I want you to properly meet Serafina Mallory." He found Sera's hand under the table and interlaced his fingers into hers.

Mrs. Weasley smiled at Sera. "It's very good to meet you, dear. Please, have a biscuit. You look like you haven't eaten in weeks."

Sera smiled thinly. "Thank you." She picked up a biscuit and nibbled at the edges. It was a very good biscuit, but Sera knew that if she ate it, it was only a matter of time before it came back up. Explanations for that should probably wait until an appropriate time.

"I don't know how much you already know," Harry continued, "so I'll start at the beginning. Late last term, Professor Dumbledore suggested to me that I should go away for the summer. He thought I was having a hard time dealing with Sirius' death, and he was right. I didn't want to go, but he convinced me that it was best. He put some kind of sleeping spell on me, and when I woke up, I was in America."

Mrs. Weasley's face showed her surprise at this news. "America? Dumbledore wouldn't tell us where you'd gone, only that he'd sent you somewhere safe. We all assumed you were in England somewhere. Ron's been worried about you all summer. Whenever we asked Dumbledore about you, he'd just assure us you were safe and well taken care of, but he wouldn't tell us where."

"He didn't tell me where I'd be going either. And he didn't tell me that I was to be accompanied by Professor Snape."

"Oh, dear," Molly muttered, knowing how much all of the children disliked the surly professor and how much Harry, in particular, mistrusted him. Dumbledore hadn't told them that either, and no one who even noticed Snape's absence connected it with Harry's sudden departure.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Sera's his niece, Mrs. Weasley. She was living with her grandmother, but she died recently, so Snape went to America because he's her only living relative. He was supposed to be figuring out what to do about her, and they thought that no one would think to look for me there, so he offered to take me along."

"Well, he was right about that, I'd say. No one even dreamed Dumbledore had sent you out of the country. Although it makes perfect sense, I'd say. Go on."

"Sera and I . . . became close over the summer. Snape had told me to stay away from her. You know how much he dislikes me." At Mrs. Weasley's nod, Harry went on. "When he discovered that I hadn't, he was furious. I thought he was going to kill me. He sent for Dumbledore and told him that he wanted me gone. Dumbledore convinced him to let things stay as they were for a few days so he could make arrangements for my return. Sera overheard them talking. Snape convinced Dumbledore to perform a memory charm on both of us. They were going to make us both forget that we'd ever met! We couldn't . . . we couldn't let that happen, and we left."

As Sera had feared, the few crumbs she'd eaten were roiling away in her stomach, and she knew they were coming back up, appropriate time or not. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, "but may I use your bathroom?"

"Of course, dear. It's right through that door."

Sera jumped up and bolted into the loo, shutting the door and making it to the toilet just in time to lose the contents of her stomach.

Mrs. Weasley heard her retching, and her eyes met Harry's over the teapot. He could see that she knew, that she'd known from the first moment she'd seen Sera. There was something in the young woman's eyes that spoke an age-old truth to the woman who had been through it so many times herself.

"How far along is she, Harry?" she asked quietly.

"About eight weeks. It's why we couldn't let them do it. It's why we had to leave. Do you understand? Please, say you understand!" Harry pleaded with her. If he couldn't get Mrs. Weasley on their side, he had no chance with anyone else.

"Of course I understand, dear. Can I assume that Professor Dumbledore and her uncle know nothing of her condition?"

Harry nodded. "We didn't tell them. There wasn't time."

"Had Dumbledore known, he never would have performed the charm. You have to know that, Harry."

Harry had thought so, but he couldn't wait around and be wrong. He shrugged. "I'd like to think so, but I couldn't be sure, and I couldn't take the risk."

Mrs. Weasley sighed and sat back in her chair. "Well this certainly changes everything, doesn't it? So what would you like to do now?"

"Well, I'd like to go back to school, but I'm afraid I may have messed things up too badly." Harry felt tears threatening at the hopelessness of ever getting his life back where it had been. And he felt guilty for wanting that, but God help him, it was true.

Mrs. Weasley saw how upset he was. They all sometimes forgot that Harry was still partly just a child himself. She reached across the table and took his hand. "Now you listen to me, Harry. You haven't messed anything up. You're in a situation that thousands before you have found themselves in, including Arthur and myself." At Harry's look of surprise, she said, "Yes, that's right. Arthur and I married rather more hastily than either one of us would have liked."

Married. That word sent a lightning bolt of terror through Harry. It was something he hadn't thought about, but he supposed it was the honorable thing to do now. "Have you ever regretted it?" he asked.

"Not once," she said earnestly. "Not once in all these years. But you two don't have to make any hasty decisions, Harry. The important thing right now is that the two of you are safe. You have no idea how worried we've all been these past three weeks."

Serafina came out of the bathroom, looking decidedly green and exhausted.

"All right, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly.

"Yes, thank you. I wonder if I might lie down somewhere, just for a little while?"

"Of course!" Mrs. Weasley jumped to her feet. "I'll show you into Percy's room." She put an arm around Sera's shoulders and led her from the room, clucking comfortingly as she went.

While he waited, Harry sat and drank his tea, grateful for the simple fact that he had someone to help him sort out his burdens. He was amazed at how much lighter he felt for it. When she returned, Harry asked, "Is she okay?"

"She's resting," Mrs. Weasley said. "Poor thing is all worn out."

"She hasn't been eating. She can't keep anything in her stomach."

"Well, that's certainly a normal part of early pregnancy, unfortunately. I think I can brew up something that will help to settle her a little so that she can eat."

"Thank you," he said gratefully. "It's why I convinced her that we needed to come here."

"I'm glad you did," Mrs. Weasley said simply.

"She's going to fall in love with you if we stay here very long," Harry noted. "She's never had a proper mum to look out for her."

"You two have a lot in common. What happened to her mother?"

"She died a few years ago, but she was a drug addict and didn't take very good care of Sera even when she was alive. Some of the stories she told me about when she was little make my time with the Dursleys seem like paradise. Her grandmother took her in when her mum died, but I didn't get the sense that she really loved Sera. She was . . . more of an obligation."

"Poor thing," Mrs. Weasley said, eyeing Harry critically, wondering if some of what Harry felt for Sera had been caused by the similarities in their upbringing and the fact that Harry saw himself as the knight in shining armor for a damsel in distress that needed rescuing. She guessed it didn't matter. The simple fact was that they were having a baby, regardless of what they felt for one another or would feel for one another a month from now, and that was of the utmost importance right now.

"So what do we do now?" she asked. "After I feed the two of you, of course."

"I can't go back if they won't let us be together. I won't," Harry said firmly. "They need to know the whole situation, but I won't put myself in a position to have my memory erased. Dumbledore needs to give me his word that he won't, and that he won't let Snape do anything, before I'll go back. We can figure out the rest later. Would you . . . would you be willing to go to Dumbledore for me, to explain everything, and get his promise that he won't touch either of us? I know it's asking a lot, but I couldn't think of anyone else to go to."

"Of course I'll do it, Harry. And I know Professor Dumbledore will agree, once he knows all of the facts. He'll not want your child growing up without a father. Let me fix the two of you something to eat, and I'll go directly."

"Thank you," Harry said, and he put his head down on his arms, closing his eyes, fighting the urge to go to sleep and not wake up until all of this had worked itself out.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

A short chapter, to bridge the gap between where we are now and where we need to be . . .

14 _Reveal_

Dumbledore ushered Molly Weasley into his office. "Good of you to come, Molly. It's always nice to see you. What can I do for you?"

"I appreciate your seeing me without an appointment, Headmaster. It's about Harry . . ."

"I assure you, Molly, everything is being done to find him. We _will _find him. We simply have no other choice."

"Well, that's just it. He's turned up," she announced. "He's at the Burrow."

Dumbledore stared at her in astonishment. "He's safe, then?" he asked, his relief at this news so great that he felt compelled to sit and was glad his chair was beneath him when he did so. He gestured at the chair in front of his desk, inviting her to sit as well, which she did.

"He is," Molly said, nodding.

"And young Miss Mallory . . . is she with him?"

"Yes, she is."

"Thank Heavens! Has he told you how he got here?" This was the piece of the puzzle that most intrigued Dumbledore.

"We didn't discuss that, no."

"But why didn't they come with you?"

"Harry has . . . certain concerns. Sir, might I suggest that we include Severus in this conversation? What I have to say concerns him as well, and we'll save time if we don't have to go over the same ground twice."

"I believe Severus is teaching a class presently, but under the circumstances, I think he should be interrupted. I'll get him." With a flick of his wand, his sent a messenger patronus off to the dungeons with an urgent message.

They did not speak while waiting for Snape to join them, and the silence was growing uncomfortable. Finally, Snape burst through the door. "Has there been word?" He noticed that Dumbledore wasn't alone, stopped, and reined himself in. He nodded in Molly's direction. "Molly," he said.

"Hello, Severus. How nice to see you."

"Molly was just telling me that Harry and Serafina have turned up at the Burrow," Dumbeldore informed him.

Snape raised his eyebrows, took a steadying breath, and turned to Molly. "And she is . . . and they are . . . well?" He'd been more worried about his niece than he'd cared to admit to anyone, even himself.

"They are as well as can be expected, given the circumstances."

"They must be brought here at once! Why are they not already here?" Snape asked.

"Molly tells me that Harry has some concerns about returning. She was about to explain those to me when we decided that you most certainly should be included in the conversation. So, Molly, if you'd care to continue," Dumbledore invited.

Molly nodded at Dumbledore. "Harry tells me that it was your intention to perform a memory charm on both of them, to make them forget about the relationship that developed between them over the summer," she informed them. "That is why they left."

"How did he know?" Dumbledore asked, feeling even more guilty about agreeing to do that now that it was out in the open and Molly Weasley was looking at him so reproachfully.

"Sera overheard the two of you talking."

"It seemed like the best course of action at the time," Snape offered, feeling not the least bit guilty. "My niece was to remain in the States, and Potter was returning here. Cutting all ties seemed like the least painful way of effectuating that separation." As though he'd been thinking only of what was best for them when he'd bargained Dumbledore into agreeing to do this. "It still seems like the best course of action, although I agree that the situation has become more complicated."

"More so than you know," Molly pointed out. Both men looked at her, neither understanding exactly what she meant. "Sera is pregnant. With Harry's child," she added, in case there was any confusion.

Dumbledore was thankful once again for his chair, as he certainly would have collapsed to the floor with this news had he not already been sitting. Although really, given Harry's admission that they hadn't used any sort of protection, this shouldn't have come as such a shock, Mother Nature being the way she was. Snape looked as though someone had slapped him across the face, and silence reigned in the room for what felt to Molly like minutes.

Finally, she spoke. "You can see why they wouldn't willingly agree to have their memories wiped clean, not with a baby on the way."

"Certainly memory charms would be inappropriate, given this news," Dumbledore agreed, still processing the news that Harry was to be a father.

"How far along is she?" Snape asked, trying to calculate in his head how many weeks had passed. His brain seemed not to be working properly for some reason.

"Eight weeks, according to them," Molly told them.

"Then we still have options," Snape noted. "The pregnancy can be terminated."

"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted sternly. "Those are not decisions you and I are going to make. Those are decisions for Harry and Sera. What will it take for him to agree to come home?" he asked Molly.

"He wants your promise that you won't take his or Sera's memory of this summer. He also wants your assurance that you won't let anyone else do it, either," she said, turning her eyes on Snape.

"This should go without saying now. Of course, he has my word. No one will touch them. Will they, Severus?"

Snape looked as though he didn't want to agree, but he knew he was beaten, and he finally nodded his agreement.

"Bring him home, Molly," Dumbledore requested.

##########

When Molly returned to the Burrow, she found Harry and Sera asleep on Percy's bed. She smiled affectionately at the way Harry was curled protectively around Sera, his hand splayed across her abdomen, as though shielding the child within. Then she sighed. They were in for a rough time from here on out. She'd intended to let them sleep in peace for a while, but Harry must have felt eyes on him, because he was suddenly awake.

He sat up slowly, careful not to wake Sera. "Mrs. Weasley! We didn't . . . we weren't doing anything," he said lamely, his cheeks flushing guiltily.

She smiled at him. "Yes, you were, dear. You were sleeping. Go ahead. Everything is fine, and we can talk later. I'll wake you when Arthur gets home and dinner is ready."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. For everything."

##########

Arthur Weasley's joy at seeing Harry and knowing that he was safe was increased ten-fold by the discovery that he'd brought with him not only a Muggle, but an American Muggle. He was so filled with questions that he dominated the conversation at the dinner table, until finally his wife told him to keep his mouth closed or she'd close it for him. Harry watched the two of them, smiling at the way they knew each other so well and the obvious affection they had for each other. He wondered if he and Sera would have that some day, and he reached over and took her hand, squeezing it warmly. She smiled at him and leaned her head tiredly on his shoulder.

As Harry predicted, Sera had fallen in love with Mrs. Weasley – Mr. Weasley, too, for that matter, despite all his curious questions. She wondered what her life would have been like had she been blessed with parents like these. Without the magical ability, of course, she wasn't really wishing for that. But it sure would have been wonderful to grow up knowing that you were the center of the universe for someone and that no matter what horrendously stupid thing you did, they'd always welcome you back. She wanted to give that to her child, and even if she had to do it by herself, she intended to see to it that this child never wanted for love.

Seeing that Sera was tired, Mrs. Weasley steered the conversation toward her meeting with the Headmaster earlier in the day.

"Dumbledore has agreed, as I knew he would, that a memory charm would be entirely inappropriate given the circumstances," she told Harry. "He's ready to welcome you back and help you figure out what comes next."

"What about me?" Sera asked in a small voice.

"Your uncle was most relieved to hear that you were safe, Sera. You, of course, will accompany Harry to Hogwarts tomorrow. You and your uncle will have to work out what comes next."

Sera sighed. That was all she could ask for at this point, she guessed. And Harry _had _promised that he wouldn't let them send her away, so she was pinning all her hopes on his ability to keep that from happening if that's what her uncle had decided. She was _so _tired. But she'd been able to keep food in her stomach for the first time in what felt like weeks, thanks to the special tea Mrs. Weasley had brewed for her, and she felt a little better, a little stronger, for that. Hopefully, it would be enough to get her through whatever lay in store for her and them tomorrow.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

15 _Return_

The following morning, after a hearty breakfast and lots of hugs and handshakes, Harry disapparated them to Hogsmeade. When Sera had recovered from the trip, he took her hand and asked, "Are you ready?"

Before they had taken two steps, Harry heard a familiar voice. "All righ' there, Harry?"

"Hagrid!" he exclaimed happily, spotting the giant man quickly on the street.

As Hagrid approached them, Sera's eyes got wider and wider. Harry had told her about Hagrid, but hearing about a giant and actually having him stand in front of you were two entirely different things. She'd never seen a man half like him, and here stood Hagrid in all his massive reality, and she could only stare.

"Aren' yeh going ter introduce me, Harry?" Hagrid asked pointedly.

"Oh, of course. Hagrid, this is Serafina Mallory. Sera, Hagrid."

Hagrid reached out one humongous hand and swallowed Sera's with it. There was no way she could grasp his entire hand, so she wrapped her hand around one of his fingers and shook. He was surprisingly gentle, she was happy to discover.

"I'm very pleased ter meet yeh, Sera," Hagrid said. "I hope yeh've had a pleasan' journey."

"It's been . . . interesting," Sera said.

"Oh, I've go' somethin' for yeh," Hagrid said, and he began searching his pockets. Finally, in the topmost outer pocket, he located what he'd misplaced. When he pulled his hand out of the pocket, Lenni sat in his palm, blinking at them in the sudden light. She'd been sleeping in the warm, dark pocket.

"Lenni!" Sera cried, reaching out to take the kitten out of Hagrid's hand.

Harry smiled and patted Lenni's head. "Where did you get her, Hagrid?"

"Dumbledore and Professor Snape brough' her back. Don' normally take much ter cats. Make me sneeze, they do. But this one – she's a righ' bonnie lass, she is. And Professor Snape fixed me a potion that stops the sneezin'. I've bin watching out for her since Dumbledore go' back. Well, we'd better be gettin' along. I expec' everyone's waiting for yeh."

They fell into step beside Hagrid, both of them nearly running to keep up.

"Does everyone know, then?" Harry asked. Knowing the Hogwarts rumor mill as he did, he feared that details of what they'd done had spread through the entire school.

"'Fraid so," Hagrid confirmed.

"Do they know . . . everything?" Sera asked.

Hagrid nodded. "About the babe, you mean? I'm afraid they do. So I guess congratulations are in order, then, eh?"

Harry gave him a wry smile. They were about to run the gauntlet through the Hogwarts student body, and congratulations didn't seem quite appropriate at the moment. "This could be ugly," he warned Sera.

She gave him a brave smile. "Nothing I'm not used to." Living in a small town as she did, Sera was used to everyone knowing everyone else's business. There wasn't anyone in town who hadn't known her mother was a drug-abusing prostitute, and the bullies and the mean people who feed off other's misery were never hesitant to remind her about it.

As they walked, Hagrid got Harry caught up on the latest Hogwarts news, the biggest piece of which concerned the newest Professor, Horace Slughorn. Rumor had it that Slughorn had only agreed to come back and renew his post as potions professor because of his desire to teach the renowned Harry Potter. Harry blushed at this news and brushed it off. "Wait a moment! Potions?! I thought he was teaching . . ." Dumbledore had never actually _said_ he wanted Slughorn to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts – Harry had assumed that, because he knew the post was open. "Don't tell me . . ." Harry started, but Hagrid saw where he was going.

"Yep. Professor's Snape's been appointed the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It's what he's always wanted. He couldn'a been happier about that."

"I'll bet," Harry muttered.

"Now, Harry, I know yeh dislike Professor Snape, but Dumbledore saw fit to give him the job, so I've got ter believe that he's the righ' man," Hagrid said, his loyalty unwavering as always.

They walked for a time in silence. The castle came into view, and Sera gaped at the sheer size of it.

Harry asked quietly, "Just how angry is he?"

Hagrid peered down at Harry. "Dumbledore, or Professor Snape?"

"Well, both, I guess, but I was really asking about Dumbledore."

"I'd say he's more relieved than angry, Harry. We all are. 'Bout the stupidest thing yeh've ever done, runnin' off like that. Could've come ter me, yeh know." Harry could tell Hagrid was hurt that Harry hadn't thought of that, but Hagrid didn't know all of the circumstances and how quickly they'd had to act.

"I'm sorry, Hagrid. We didn't mean to make trouble. We just didn't see any other way."

"Well, it's all righ' now," Hagrid assured him. "Jus' so long as yeh're safe." They'd passed through the gates of the grounds and were approaching Hagrid's hut. "Here's where I leave yeh," he told them. "Got a lesson ter prepare."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry told him. "It's good to be back."

Hagrid nodded in acknowledgment. "I'll keep the wee feller fer a bit, if you like, 'til yeh get things settled."

Sera was reluctant to let Lenni go, but she didn't know where she'd be at the end of the day, so she nodded and handed the kitten back to Hagrid. "Thank you."

"Hagrid," Harry said, suddenly remembering from his years of personal experience the creatures Hagrid routinely kept in his hut, "you're not keeping anything in there that would eat a kitten, are you?"

"Course not, Harry!" Hagrid said, just a touch defensively. He'd cleaned the cabin of vicious and aggressive creatures before agreeing to take the kitten in, something he'd done only because it was Harry's kitten. He'd become quite attached to her since then. "Fang jus' loves her. Thinks she's his puppy, the great dozy dog!" Hagrid said affectionately. "Come see me when yeh can," he invited as he took his leave from them.

They watched him walk away. "He's a giant," Sera said. Although Harry _had _told her about him, he was such an amazing specimen that she felt the need to state the obvious.

"Well, actually, he's only half giant. His mum was a giantess, and his dad was a regular-sized person."

Sera pondered this as they resumed walking. "How does that work?"

"How does what work?"

"I mean, anatomically, how does that work? You've got an average sized man, with, we'll assume, average-sized . . . equipment. And you've got a giant lady, with presumably giant-sized parts. You can picture what that looks like, right?"

"No!" Harry said hurriedly, not because he couldn't, but because he most certainly didn't want to.

"I mean, wouldn't he just get lost in there?" Sera continued, clearly enjoying how much this discussion was embarrassing Harry.

Harry couldn't help it. Despite the fact that he was blushing deeply to the roots of his hair, he laughed. "Only you, Serafina," he choked out. "You are seriously disturbed."

"Well, someone has to think about these things," she said with a sniff and a smile. "You can bet it occurred to Hagrid's parents before they did the deed."

"Enough now," Harry admonished. He'd never be able to look at Hagrid the same way again.

They walked hand-in-hand in silence until they neared the castle proper. Harry squeezed her hand. "You ready?"

She nodded.

"Maybe everyone will be in class," Harry said, hoping they'd be able to make it to Dumbledore's office unseen. They hadn't gone very far before he knew that hope was in vain. The closer they got to the Headmaster's office, the more people lined the walkways and stood around in the courtyard, not even trying to pretend they were doing something besides staring. Obviously, everyone knew that he'd be returning this morning, and they'd all turned out to get a look at him and the girl he'd gotten into trouble. Harry steeled himself to stare straight ahead, chin up, and pretend they weren't there. He hoped Sera could do the same.

"Harry!" he heard a familiar voice call.

Harry looked around until he saw Hermione hurtling toward them. She launched herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over, hugging him tight. "Thank goodness you're all right!" she said into his ear.

"Well, I was until you broke all my ribs," he joked, hugging her back with his one free arm. It was good to see her. He looked up, still locked in her embrace, to see Ron ambling up to them. Harry waved feebly, then motioned for help in getting Hermione off of him.

"Hermione," Ron admonished. "Let the man breathe."

Hermione finally let go, but she hadn't stopped smiling. "And you must be Sera," she said, turning and favoring Sera with a hug as well. "I feel like I already know you from our chats. Oh. My. God! You two are so cute together! "

"It's good to finally meet you face-to-face," Sera agreed.

"Ron, this is Sera," Harry said after Hermione had released her.

Ron offered his hand, and Sera let go of Harry's hand so she could shake Ron's.

Hermione grabbed hold of Sera's left arm and began to walk her forward. Sera grabbed Harry's hand again and tugged him along, and Ron joined the group, walking on Harry's right. Harry saw what they were doing, providing what protection they could from the curious stares of the gathered students, and he was grateful. Hermione chatted with Sera all the way across the entrance courtyard, hoping to take her mind off of what was going on. Sera was grateful for the effort, but her stomach was still roiling like two live snakes were engaged in a wrestling match in there.

As they neared the entrance to Dumbledore's office, it got worse. There stood Draco Malfoy, flanked by his goons, Crabbe and Goyle, his arms crossed, a sneer etched into his face.

"Potter. I heard you'd knocked up some Muggle girl. This must be it then," he said, with a curl of his lip, looking Sera up and down as though she were nothing more than a pile of particularly smelly dragon dung.

"Malfoy," Harry said under his breath. He dropped Sera's hand, his own hands curling into fists reflexively. Behind Draco, Dumbledore and Snape were making their way toward them, and Harry was sorry he wasn't going to get the chance to flatten Draco where he stood.

"I've got this," Sera said quietly. She approached Malfoy and offered her hand to him. "You must be Draco. Serafina Mallory. Harry has told me so much about you." When Malfoy didn't take the proffered hand, Sera reached over and took his hand in hers. She squeezed it as tightly as she could. Much as he tried to hide the fact that she was hurting him, he couldn't, and she'd brought tears to his eyes and nearly had him on his knees before she let go. "It was so nice meeting you," she said as sincerely as she could. "I hope we'll be the greatest of friends."

"Serafina," Snape said as Malfoy straightened up, holding his injured hand.

"Hello, Severus," she said, enjoying the startled look that crossed Malfoy's face. Obviously, he hadn't known the girl he'd just insulted was connected to the head of his house. Though everyone knew about the baby, apparently no one knew she was a blood relative of Professor Snape. Sera looked away from Malfoy, completely dismissing him now. "How are you?" she asked her uncle, sounding much braver than she felt.

He approached her quickly, his robe fluttering menacingly behind him, and she had a moment to wonder whether he intended to strike her before he pulled her into his embrace and held her tightly.

Harry, Ron and Hermione watched this scene, first with amusement at Sera's putting Malfoy in his place so adeptly, and then with amazement as the reserved, forbidding Professor Snape allowed his affection for his niece to display itself in public.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said as he came to stand beside Harry. "We need to talk."

Harry gulped. He couldn't remember Dumbledore ever calling him "Mr. Potter." He was in _so _much trouble! "Yes, sir," he said. "Your office?"

"My office," Dumbledore agreed, leading the way.

Harry started to follow, then stopped and looked back at Sera, unsure he should leave her. "She's in good hands," Dumbledore noted quietly. Indeed, Snape had yet to let Sera go, and she was now sobbing onto his shoulder, Harry guessed with relief as much as anything else. He looked at Hermione, asking her with his eyes to stay with Sera and make sure she was all right. Hermione understood and nodded her agreement. "Poor Severus has been a wreck since you stole away with his niece," Dumbledore noted as he turned and began to make his way up the stairs to his office.

Harry followed his mentor up the spiral staircase, wondering just how bad this was going to be and just what consequences might arise out of what he had done. It hadn't really occurred to him that Dumbledore would be angry. Disappointed, maybe. Worried, certainly. But not angry. He had to understand, didn't he?

After Dumbledore seated himself behind his desk, he stared through Harry for a few uncomfortable moments. Harry tried not to look away, but he felt like a five-year old caught with his hand in the sweet jar. "There's only one thing I really don't understand," Dumbledore finally said.

Harry waited for Dumbledore to spell out what that one thing was.

"I want to know how you got here."

"Sir?" Harry asked, confused. There were several things he'd expected Dumbledore to want him to explain, but that wasn't one of them.

"How did you and Miss Mallory get from America to the UK?"

"We disapparated, sir." Harry thought he would have figured that out immediately after realizing they were gone without a trace.

"Amazing. Truly amazing."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't understand why it's amazing. You know that Snape was teaching me to how to disapparate."

"_Professor _Snape," Dumbledore corrected automatically. "You really don't understand, do you?"

Harry shook his head.

"The ability to disapparate distances such as those you traveled takes a great amount of power and practice. It's not something the typical student who's just been introduced to the ability could perform. And when you throw in the fact that you brought someone else with you . . . you really have no idea just how incredible that is, Harry. Some wizards who have been apparating for years haven't mastered side-along apparition. Mark my words," Dumbledore said, pointing a finger at Harry. "I will not make the mistake of underestimating you again.

"Oh," Harry said, still not sure he understood what the big deal was. "I guess it's good I didn't know I wasn't supposed to be able to do it then."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Ignorance _can _be very useful," he agreed.

"Can you apparate with animals, sir?" Harry finally thought to ask.

"Is that why you left the kitten behind? Because you didn't know if she'd survive the trip?"

Harry nodded.

"Yes, you can apparate with animals, as long as you have a good hold on them. I wouldn't want to apparate with something large, like a cow, but something small presents no problem - kittens, small dogs, ferrets, rats . . ."

Harry couldn't put it off any longer. "Am I in trouble, sir?"

"Trouble, Harry?" Dumbledore repeated. "Had I been able to put my hands on you moments after I discovered you were missing, it's very possible that you would have been in a great deal of trouble. But as I am now aware of all of the circumstances and the reasons for your actions, I understand why you made the decisions you made. You fell in love."

"That very first day," Harry confirmed. "Remember? And it was more like crashing than falling, sir."

"Yes, young love is often that way. It's what makes it so exciting and irresistible. How is Miss Mallory?"

"She's been suffering a bit from morning sickness," Harry understated, "But Mrs. Weasley put her right with a tea she brewed for her." Molly had thoughtfully sent the recipe for the tea she'd brewed along with them so that Sera could continue to drink it as she needed it.

"Have the two of you made any plans?"

"Not really. We over-reacted, I guess, when we heard about the memory charm. Sera had only just found out that day that she was pregnant, and we were afraid that . . . we just thought we had to get away."

"Harry, you must know that had I known . . ." Dumbledore seemed troubled by the fact that Harry had thought him capable of making him forget his own child deliberately.

"That sounds logical, sitting here now," Harry admitted. "But I was afraid that since you'd already promised Snape that you'd do it . . . I was afraid that you would just do it before I had a chance to explain. I couldn't take the chance that . . . I didn't want my baby growing up without his father."

Dumbledore nodded his understanding, then thought a change in subject was warranted. "Did you apparate all this way at once?"

"No, sir. I _was _a little concerned about the distances involved. I'd only apparated short distances before, and never with someone else, as you know. We practiced, just to make sure I could bring her with me. I figured if something went wrong, we'd at least have Snape available to fix her up. It would have blown our plan to hell, but we would have thought of something else. It worked, though, so we just . . . left. I looked at a map and broke the trip down into three segments, first to the eastern coast of Canada, then to Ireland, then to Surrey."

"And you obviously had no splinching difficulties along the way?"

"No, sir. Sera got awfully sick each time, though that might have just been the morning sickness."

"Maybe not. Many people vomit the first time they disapparate. And where have you spent the last three weeks?"

"We walked to London from Surrey." At Dumbledore's raised eyebrow, Harry explained. "I didn't want to use magic. It would have been too easy for the Ministry to find us. It took us a week. Sera stayed in a hotel while I went into Diagon Alley to visit the bank. We found a cottage that was for let, and we've been there since."

"And what made you turn yourself in, as it were, to Mrs. Weasley? You could have stayed on the run for a very long time. We had no idea where you were, other than that you'd come home. For all we knew, you'd left the country again immediately after your trip to the bank. If you'd continued to avoid using magic, you might have eluded us for as long as you chose."

"Sera was getting sicker. She hasn't been able to keep anything down since we left, and I knew that wasn't good for the baby. I convinced her we needed help, and I thought of Mrs. Weasley. I just needed someone to come to you and explain, so that you'd agree not to do the memory charm. And I really wanted to come home," Harry admitted. "This is where I belong."

"I'm glad you did, Harry. I'm so very glad you did."

"What's going to happen to Sera now, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I don't know. All traces of her back in the States have been erased. That was necessary to prevent Severus being held accountable for her disappearance. It would be difficult, although not impossible, to return her there if that is what she wanted. I don't think there's anything preventing her from staying here, but that's a decision that obviously involves her uncle. As far as I am concerned, she is welcome here as long as she wishes to stay."

Harry smiled, relief flooding through him. "Thank you, sir. And I can just . . . pick up here, like nothing ever happened?"

"I doubt it will be that simple. Everyone knows about the difficulties you've gotten yourself into."

"It won't be the first time I've been the topic of conversation around here. I can manage that." Harry had been the target of gossip at Hogwarts since this first year here – first for simply being the Boy Who Lived, returning from exile; then when he was suspected of being the Heir of Slytherin and of having reopened the Chamber of Secrets; then because mass murderer Sirius Black had supposedly escaped from Azkaban to find Harry and kill him; then because he was suspected of somehow illegally entering his name into the Tri-Wizard tournament; and finally, last year, because for many months, most were convinced he was either an attention-seeking weirdo or simply mad. If there was one thing Harry was accustomed to, it was people talking about him behind his back. And sometimes right to his face.

"I thought as much. You've missed two weeks of classes, so there will be some catching up to do, but I have every confidence in your ability to do just that."

Harry smiled. This was more than he could have hoped for. "Can I see Sera now? I'd like to tell her."

"Severus was going to take her to Madam Pomfrey for a checkup. I think we'll find them in the hospital wing. Let's go to them."

Feeling more light-hearted than he had for some time, Harry walked with Dumbledore to the hospital wing. Maybe everything was going to work out. Dumbledore had said Sera could stay. Snape had obviously missed her and been concerned about her, and there was every reason to hope that he might agree to let her stay here. There would be difficulties, of course, but for the first time in a while, Harry thought they just might be able to overcome them.

With that realization came an inspiration: he was going to ask Sera to marry him. He'd ask her tonight, and they'd get married before the baby came. He wasn't sure if a sixteen-year old wizard could get married without a guardian's permission, and the thought of asking the Dursleys was not a pleasant one, but that was just another one of those obstacles they'd overcome. His son would _not _be born a bastard, not if he had anything to say about it. Now where could he get his hands on a ring? Couldn't ask a girl to marry you without a ring.

When they approached the door to the hospital wing, they both saw Snape pacing back and forth before it, looking worried and tense. "Harry, wait here," Dumbledore requested.

"But, sir," Harry said, immediately concerned that something was wrong.

"Harry, please," Dumbledore requested firmly. "Wait here."

Harry bit back the words he wanted to say and nodded mutely. He watched Dumbledore approach Snape, and tried very hard to listen to the whispered conversation between the two men, but he couldn't make out a word, likely because one of them had cast a privacy spell. Whatever they were talking about, it wasn't good. Snape looked worried and angry (and what was new about that? Harry thought), and Dumbledore looked sad and concerned. What was taking so long?

Finally, he'd had enough. They were obviously talking about Sera, and he had every right to know what was going on. He marched toward them, feeling the tingle of magic as he passed through the suspected silencing charm, making up his mind that if they wouldn't get out of his way, he was going past them, by force if he had to.

Dumbledore saw him coming and interrupted himself in mid-sentence. He put a hand up to stop Harry. "Harry . . ."

"Sir, what's going on?" he demanded, looking only at Dumbledore, not expecting Snape to be of any assistance.

"Harry, if you could just give us another moment . . ." the Headmaster said, needing more information and preferring that Harry be seated for the discussion that had to follow.

"No," Harry interrupted. "I'm sorry, sir, but tell me what's going on. Something's wrong with Sera! I have a right to know! She's carrying my child!"

"Not any more she isn't," Snape said, with what Harry thought was satisfaction and even a small amount of glee.

Rage filled Harry, hot and white and immediate, and he turned on Snape. "What did you do?" he snarled.

"Harry, he didn't . . ." Dumbledore started to explain, but Harry had leapt off the cliff of reasonableness and was plunging toward the sea of fury. Before he even knew he was doing it, he'd taken out his wand and taken three threatening steps toward Snape, who did not retreat from the force of his anger, but stood staring coldly down at Harry.

Harry's wand was pointing at Snape's throat. Vaguely, Harry was aware of Dumbledore fussing behind him, but his vision had narrowed to the point of a pin, and he had room only for Snape. "What did you do to her?" he asked again, not entirely sure how he'd held himself back from cursing Snape where he stood.

"Harry, put your wand down," Dumbledore said quietly but firmly behind him.

But Harry couldn't. Not yet. If Snape had had anything to do with what had apparently happened, there was nothing that was going to stop him from killing Snape, right here, right now, consequences be damned. "Tell me what you did!" he choked out.

"I did nothing," Snape said coldly, and if he was afraid of Harry's wand a mere inch from his throat, he was doing a good job of hiding it. "It was you. Your inability to recognize that you don't know all there is to know, your utter lack of judgment, and your complete and total disregard for the rules. It is your selfishness and arrogance that have led us here."

Harry's wand dipped a bit, though his anger was still all-consuming. "What does that mean?"

"You gave more thought and concern to a kitten than you did to your own child," Snape spit at him.

"Severus, that's enough," Dumbledore said firmly. "Harry, put your wand away. Now," he said when Harry stood frozen, his wand now aiming at Snape's chest. Harry's wand arm now seemed really tired, and he let it fall to his side. He turned to Dumbledore.

"What's happened?"

"Miss Mallory has miscarried," the Headmaster said, as gently as he could.

The white-hot anger that had filled Harry was almost gone and was immediately replaced by a frigid cold at the Headmaster's words. "What?" he whispered. "Why?"

Dumbledore put a supporting arm around Harry's shoulder. "Madam Pomfrey cannot know for certain. Sometimes these things just happen. But . . . it appears that it may have been the apparition."

"What? No! _I_ did this?!" Harry's knees suddenly went weak, and if Dumbledore hadn't been holding him up, he was sure he would have fallen. As it was, he merely slumped against the older man. "I didn't know . . . Oh, my God!" A sudden, horrifying thought occurred to Harry. "We didn't . . . leave him behind did we?" And he had to forcefully stop himself from picturing what that might have looked like.

"No, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "She made the journey with you. She just didn't survive it."

"'She?'" Harry repeated, his voice a tortured whisper. "It was a girl?" Harry felt as though he were going to scream until he had no voice left. He felt as though he wanted to run to the top of the tallest tower in the castle and throw himself off of it. He didn't deserve to live, not after this. What had he done?!

Dumbledore seemed to sense what Harry was feeling, and he tightened the protective arm on the young man's shoulder. "You mustn't blame yourself. We cannot be sure that it was the apparition and not merely a tragic coincidence. None of us can recall a single incident of a pregnant Muggle being disapparated."

"Because no one has ever been stupid enough to try it," Snape offered.

"Severus, please," Albus requested. This was bad enough without nasty comments designed to torture Harry further. "Harry, there is time later for self-recrimination, if you are so inclined. However, right now, there's a young woman in there who needs you. Go to her."

"But how can I face her now?" was Harry's anguished reply. "After what I've done to her?"

"Part of growing up, of being a man, is accepting responsibility for our actions. Whether or not the apparition caused the miscarriage, the fact remains that you brought Miss Mallory here. She's in a foreign place, with strangers, undoubtedly scared, grief-stricken, and suffering her own measure of guilt. There's no one she needs now more than you, Harry."

Harry knew that Dumbledore was right. Finding an appropriate way to dispose of himself could wait until later. Now he had to see Sera. "Is she . . . okay? Physically, I mean?"

"She's lost a lot of blood, and she's weak," Dumbledore told him, passing along the information Snape had shared with him. "But she will be fine. She should have no lasting physical effects from this experience." He knew that neither of the youngsters thought it important right now, but the fact that Sera should be able to bear children later in life without difficulty would be a comfort, to her at least, at some point in the future.

Harry drew himself up straight, pulling away from Dumbledore's fortifying embrace. He had to be strong for Sera. "I'm ready to see her now."

Dumbledore opened the door of the hospital wing and followed Harry through it. Snape trailed along behind, not at all moved by Harry's obvious feelings of guilt

Hermione sat beside Sera's bed, looking almost as white as Sera now did. Respecting Harry's mute plea, she'd stayed at Sera's side through her reunion with Snape, his request that Sera accompany him to the nurse, Sera's sudden abdominal pain on the way there, and the blood. There had been so much blood! Sera had passed out before reaching the hospital wing, from the loss of blood or the hysteria, maybe both. Snape had swept her up into his arms and carried her the rest of the way. Hermione had thought that Snape would try to chase her away at any moment, but he seemed unaware that she was there, so she trailed quietly along, trying not to call attention to herself.

Madam Pomfrey hadn't allowed Snape or Hermione behind the curtain as she worked on Sera, and Hermione could only imagine what was going on back there. Snape had paced nervously, not speaking to her, which was all right with her. What was there to say?

Finally, Madam Pomfrey had emerged from behind the screen and informed Snape that Sera had miscarried, that she'd lost a significant amount of blood, but that she was now stable and should be fine with a couple of days of rest. Hermione had cried quietly, but Snape had showed no emotion beyond relief that his niece had survived. Snape had gone behind the curtain for a very brief word with Sera, then had left. Hermione had been sitting near her new friend since, not wanting to leave her alone, wondering where Harry was and how he would take this latest bit of tragic news. Sera had been awake but didn't seem inclined to talk, which was rather a comfort to Hermione. What did you say to someone you hardly knew who had just lost the baby they were carrying? Once, Sera had sobbed, a grief-stricken sound that had pierced Hermione's heart, and she'd reached over to take her hand. Sera squeezed her hand in gratitude but didn't speak, and neither one of them had made a sound since.

Hermione looked up at Harry's entrance, then let go of Sera's hand and stood up. She hugged Harry briefly and whispered, "I'm so sorry," in his ear before letting him go to Sera. He sat in the chair Hermione had just vacated and took Sera's hand into his own. Her hand was warm and a little sweaty, and he could tell that Hermione had been holding it, and he was grateful to his friend for staying here with Sera during her ordeal. The grief suddenly hit him with the force of a cruciatus curse, and Harry lowered his head to her hand and began to cry, oblivious to the crowd watching behind him.

"I'm so sorry, Sera!" he sobbed. "I didn't . . . know this could happen. I should have . . . guessed that something . . . like this . . . How can you ever forgive me?! I'm so sorry!"

Sera reached out with her other hand and stroked Harry's hair. "Not your fault," she said tiredly. "Nothing to forgive."

Harry looked up at her, tears streaming down his face, then stood up and leaned over the bed to hold her as best he could. She began to cry now, too, and their tears mingled as they fell onto the clean sheet.

"Perhaps we should leave them alone," Dumbledore suggested quietly to Snape and Hermione, and the three of them left the room. Neither Harry nor Sera heard them go as they gave vent to the grief that filled them and the room.

When Madam Pomfrey returned much later, she found them curled up together asleep on the bed. She thought briefly of waking Harry and making him leave, but thought better of it and brought a blanket to cover him, extinguishing the lights when she left again.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

16 _Aftermath_

"Just leave me alone!"

Harry heard Sera's scream from the other end of the hallway leading to the hospital wing, and he quickened his pace. He had left her most unwillingly this morning to attend class. She was taking the loss of the baby hard and had alternated yesterday between hysterical crying, deep despondency, and irrational anger at anyone who happened to be near her. It appeared she was in an anger phase again this afternoon.

Snape came striding through the door of the hospital wing, but stopped when he saw Harry. "You might want to come back later," he advised.

Harry sighed. "She hasn't calmed down any, I take it?"

"That would be an understatement."

"Is there anything we can do, Professor?"

"Madam Pomfrey advises time, patience and understanding."

A loud clatter from within seemed to suggest that something, perhaps a bed pan, had been thrown across the room.

Summoning his courage, Harry said, "I'm going in."

"Is there anyone you'd like me to contact? A priest, perhaps?" Snape joked.

Harry smiled, then a thought occurred to him. "Actually, there is someone who might be able to help. I think she needs her mother right now."

Snape stared at him, wondering if the boy had lost his mind. "You understand that my sister is dead?"

"Yes, of course. But Mrs. Weasley isn't. They developed a relationship in the short time they were together before. Maybe she can help."

"It's worth a try," Snape agreed. "I will see if she will come."

"Hurry, would you please?" Harry requested as he pushed the door open.

Harry was pleased to see that Sera was still Madam Pomfrey's only patient. He stepped through the door, then waited for Sera to see him. If she was going to throw something at him, he wanted to be as far away from her as possible.

"What are you looking at?" she asked grumpily.

"The woman I love," Harry answered truthfully.

"Shut up," Sera said, but with a little less ire.

Harry thought it was safe to approach the bed, and he did so. "How are you feeling today?"

"How am I feeling? How am I supposed to feel?!" she demanded.

"I don't know how you're supposed to feel, Sera," he said calmly. "I've never been through this before either." He sat on the bed beside her. "Although I suspect that even if I had, it wouldn't help you any to know how I felt about it then."

"Stop being so damn reasonable!" she growled.

"Okay," Harry agreed.

"You're doing it again!"

_Time, patience and understanding_, Harry recited to himself. He changed tacks. "Are you allowed to get out of bed yet?"

"Madam Pomfrey said I could try whenever I'm ready. I just haven't been ready."

"Would you like to try now?"

"No."

"I think you should."

"I think you should get the hell out of here!" she said, glaring at him.

"I thought you wanted me to stop being agreeable? I disagreed with you, now you want me to leave?"

"You're an ass," she stated. "Help me up."

Harry assisted Sera into a sitting position, her legs hanging off the side of the bed. She winced as her insides cramped up and she felt a little more blood being expelled. Who knew the human body had so much blood to spare?

"Ready?" Harry asked.

"No," Sera said, unable to stop being contradictory, but she put an arm around Harry's shoulder, and they slowly stood together.

"Okay?" Harry asked, watching her face, which had suddenly gone white.

"I'm okay," she said, squeezing her eyes shut against the nausea. When it was gone, she opened her eyes again. "To the door and back," she instructed.

Slowly, Sera shuffled her way to the door, Harry supporting more than half her weight. Fatigue threatened to overwhelm her before she reached her destination, but she pushed on, bolstered by Harry's encouragement. When she finally got back to the bed, she collapsed into it. Harry helped her to get her legs back up onto the bed, then covered her. As he did so, he noticed blood on the sheet.

"Sera, there's blood on the sheet," he said, concern evident in his voice.

"It's okay," she said, her eyes closed. "Madam Pomfrey said there would be for a few days."

"Are you all right? Did we do too much?"

"No, I'm fine," Sera said, and tears began to leak out of her closed eyes.

Harry sat on the bed beside her again and took her hand. He wasn't sure which he disliked more: the tears or the anger. He didn't feel capable of coping with either, and he looked at her helplessly.

She opened her eyes. "Are _you _okay, Harry?"

"Me? I'm fine."

"You don't have to pretend with me. I'm not the only one who lost a baby," she pointed out. Everyone's focus had been on her, because it was she who had carried the baby, and it was her blood that had spilled. But Harry had to be hurting, too. Had anyone noticed that?

Harry looked away from her as tears came to his eyes. "I don't know . . . I'm . . ." He couldn't find the words to tell her how empty he felt inside or about the dream he'd had last night about himself holding a toddler with dark hair. He'd tried to tell himself that what they'd lost had been little more than organic matter only a few centimeters in length, but it hadn't helped. What they'd lost would have become a child – their child. And despite all the fear and anxiety that learning they were going to have that child had caused them, he was genuinely heartbroken that she was gone from them.

When he looked back at her, the tears spilled down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "This is my fault. Why do I always hurt the ones I love?"

"It's not your fault, Harry."

"But if I hadn't apparated you, this never would have happened."

"We don't know that," Sera pointed out. "Madam Pomfrey says that miscarriage early in pregnancy is common. It may just have been a coincidence."

"But we don't know that, do we?"

"No, and we never will," she said, squeezing his hand. "So what's the sense in beating yourself up over it? This is just as much my fault as yours. If I'd eaten better, maybe she would have been stronger, and it wouldn't have mattered that we went leaping about all over the world."

Harry wiped his eyes, glad at least that she seemed to be returning to normal. She hadn't been this calm and reasonable since they'd brought her here to the hospital. This small bit of happiness ended, though, when she said, "You need to go now."

"Huh?" he asked, looking at her, confused. "Why?"

"I want to be alone." She looked away from him. "Just go." And she pulled her hand away. Because despite her words of comfort, a small part of her still blamed him – she couldn't help it. And she couldn't stand looking at him another minute. "Go!" she yelled when he hadn't moved.

"Sera, I don't understand . . ."

"Just leave me alone!" she screamed. And they were back to the anger.

Harry stood up. This emotional roller coaster was exhausting. "I'm going to sit out in the hallway for a bit. If you decide you want me, just give a yell."

"Don't hold your breath," she said meanly.

"I love you, Sera," he said. When she didn't respond, he left.

Harry sat in the hallway, his back against the wall, not really expecting Sera to call him back in. He was immensely relieved when, many minutes later, Molly Weasley appeared. He got to his feet, and she pulled him into a warm hug. "I'm so sorry, Harry." When she let him go, she took his face in her hands. "Are you all right?"

"I'll be okay, Mrs. Weasley. It's Sera I'm worried about. She's angry one minute, then crying, then she just lays there staring. I can't seem to do anything right. She threw Snape out earlier, and she just made me leave, too. What can I do?"

"It's grief, Harry. She's having a hard time working through it. But she will be all right, in time. Would you like me to talk to her?"

"I was hoping you would. She likes you a lot. If her mother were here . . ."

Molly smoothed the hair back from Harry's forehead. "I'll just go and see what I can do."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

More than a hour later, Molly re-emerged. Harry had fallen asleep sitting on the floor, and he had a difficult time straightening up when she woke him.

"How is she?" Harry asked, trying to shake off the fog of sleep that surrounded him.

"I think she's better. We talked, and we cried. But I think she worked some of it through. She wants to see you."

"How can I ever thank you?"

"I'm just glad I could help. You let me know how everything turns out, all right?"

"I promise."

After she left, Harry returned to the hospital wing. Again, he waited by the door. "Sera?"

"Harry, come in." When he reached her bed, she extended her hand to him, and he took it gladly. "I am _so _sorry for the way I treated you," she said earnestly.

"You don't have to . . ."

"Yes, I do," she interrupted. "There was no reason to act that way with you, or with anyone. Can you forgive me?"

"Of course I can," Harry said, his heart filled with gratitude for the turnaround in her attitude. He hoped it lasted this time. "Are you all right now?"

"No, but I'm better. And I will be all right, in a little while, if you can be patient."

"I can do that," he said with a warm smile.

Sera smiled back, feeling much more peaceful inside than she had in a long time. Once again, she wished she'd had someone like Molly Weasley for her mother. That visit had been just what she'd needed. There was nothing in this world like having a maternal shoulder to cry on, one that was accepting and not judgmental. Learning that Mrs. Weasley herself had miscarried, between the births of Charlie and Percy, had helped Sera to understand that tragedies happened in life every day, to good people, and that the only true tragedy was caving in to the weight of them and giving up the fight. Mrs. Weasley had gone on to have five children after her miscarriage. Sera thought there was no reason why she and Harry couldn't have a child or several children some day, when they were actually ready, and that thought heartened her.

After supper, Sera insisted on walking again, this time a little further than she'd gone before. When her uncle stopped by later, she apologized profusely to him, as she'd done earlier to Madam Pomfrey.

Sera asked Harry not to leave her that night, and he spent the night in her bed again.

"Madam Pomfrey has given me the baby's remains," Sera told him. "They're in a box. When we can find a good place, we can bury them, maybe put up a little stone or something. Then we can visit her."

Harry smiled. "That would be nice. We never decided on a name."

"Do you have any suggestions?"

"I'd like . . . I think I'd like to call her Lily."

Sera lay silently for a moment. Harry wanted to name their lost child after his mother. But if there were other children some day, perhaps another girl, she'd prefer to have a living child carry her grandmother's name, not one who would never walk or talk or even breathe. "No," she said gently. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"I just don't want to call her Lily," Sera said, not certain that he'd understand her reasoning. She didn't want him to think that she felt that this child's life wasn't as important as any future child they might have, because she certainly didn't feel that way. "I'd like to call her Sunny."

It was Harry's turn to lay silently, slightly miffed that she was refusing him this request. "All right," he finally said.

She could tell that he was unhappy, and she leaned over to kiss him. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

"Has Madam Pomfrey said when you can leave yet?"

"She thought another day or so and I should be back to normal."

"You were never normal," Harry teased.

"Well, normal for me," Sera amended. After a moment of silence, she said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you still love me?"

Harry turned to face her, surprised at her question. "Of course I still love you. I loved you before the baby . . . before Sunny. And just because she's gone doesn't mean I stopped loving you. What kind of question is that?"

"Sorry. I just wanted to make sure. Because I love you still, too."

"Well, good then." He felt now was a good time to confess something. "Two days ago, when . . . before you . . . before we lost Sunny, I was going to ask you to marry me. I was wondering where I could get a ring on my way here that day. I didn't want the baby to be born a bastard, and I was going to figure out how a sixteen-year old wizard could marry a sixteen-year old Muggle."

"Oh, Harry," Sera said, unable to say more, tears starting in her eyes once again.

He reached up to stroke her cheek. "We could still do it, if you want," he offered softly.

She turned to kiss the palm of his hand. "Some day, I'd like that very much. But perhaps it would make more sense, since there's no need to rush into it now, to wait until we're both of age, and then we won't have to ask anyone's permission."

"That _does _make sense," Harry agreed. "But I'm still going to get you a ring."

Sera snuggled securely into his arms. The fact that he loved her and still wanted to be with her, even without the baby, was very comforting, and she thought she could sleep easily now.

##########

Finally, three days after the miscarriage, Madam Pomfrey announced that Sera was well enough to leave her care. The time had come to decide her future, and they went straight from the hospital to Dumbledore's office – Harry, Sera, the Headmaster and Snape.

"Is his presence here necessary? Given the circumstances . . ." Snape asked, looking down his large nose at Harry.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, trying to use his best reasonable voice. "Harry has everything to do with her being here. Unless Miss Mallory wants him to go, I think he has every right to stay."

"I want him here, Uncle," Sera said. Harry sat beside her and took her hand, looking up defiantly at Snape. Just because they'd lost the baby didn't mean he'd stopped loving Sera.

Snape nodded his acquiescence, with bad grace.

Dumbledore waited for Snape to begin. She was _his _niece, after all. When he didn't, Dumbledore cleared his throat. "We're meeting here today to decide what's best for you, Miss Mallory. I'm not sure how much Harry might have told you about what happened after the two of you left the States. Once we discovered that you were no longer in that country, but had in fact come here, it was decided it was pointless for us to remain there as the search for you was concentrating many miles away. We were faced with the dilemma of what to tell local authorities about you. We could have concocted the story that you had decided to move to England with your uncle, but it was unlikely that they would have believed that story without your presence to confirm it. If we simply left, questions would have been raised about where you were and whether you had gone willingly. In the end, in cooperation with local magical authorities, you were simply erased – from the records and from the minds of anyone who knew you. On paper, you no longer exist in the United States of America."

"What about here?" Sera asked quietly.

"At this moment, you exist nowhere but in this room."

"Wow," she said. "Can I ever go back?"

"You can," Dumbledore told her. "It will take a great deal of assistance to recreate you, but yes, it can be done, if that is what you wish to do."

Sera didn't know how she felt about that. She'd always been proud to be an American and grateful she'd been born where she had. Now she was nothing. She wasn't an American, she wasn't a Brit. It was a weird feeling.

"Okay. So I can go back home. What are my other options?" She was looking at Snape when she said this.

"I have told Harry," Dumbledore said when Snape still didn't speak, "that you are welcome to stay here as long as you like. Recent circumstances have not changed my view in that regard. This option also comes with difficulties, but it is still an option."

"What difficulties?" Sera wanted to know, concentrating on the Headmaster now that it appeared that Snape wanted no involvement in this conversation.

"There are many things you don't understand about this world, Miss Mallory. It is . . . it can be . . . a very dangerous place for the innocent and uninformed. The simplest things, things that seem innocuous, can be very deadly. Harry may have told you about some of these things, but there are many that even he is not aware of. Should you choose to stay here, out of necessity, your movement will be restricted. You will not be allowed to wander the grounds unaccompanied. Also, it is unfortunate, but there are people here who will think your presence an affront to everything they hold dear, and some of them may try to purposefully harm you. You will need to be protected from all of these threats. We stand ready and willing to do that if you choose to remain with us. Should your uncle request that of us," he added, making it clear that this wasn't his decision to make.

"Is there a third option?" Sera asked quietly, pretty certain she knew the answer to that question.

"I don't see one," Dumbledore admitted.

Sera thought, absently stroking the back of Harry's hand with her thumb as she did so. She could go home, where no one knew her. Even if they managed to recreate her in the paper sense, she still had no one back there. She'd be completely and utterly alone, or even worse, stuck into a foster home with people who, although likely well-intentioned, would just be providing her with temporary shelter until she turned eighteen and the system could cough her out into the world, still completely and utterly alone.

Or she could stay here. Here, she'd have Harry and her new friends Hermione and Ron. And she'd have her uncle, although that wasn't much of a comfort at the moment. And Dumbledore. She'd come to think he was pretty cool in the last couple of days, and he was obviously creating a lot of trouble for himself by offering to let her stay. And there was Lenni – she'd be here. So faced with the thought of giving up her citizenship forever or staying here with people she cared about and who might come to care for her, there really was little choice. But she needed to know something first.

"What do _you _think, Uncle?" she asked, staring at Snape.

Surprised at being so addressed, Snape started slightly. What _did _he think? He still harbored so much anger and disappointment that she had "betrayed" him with Potter. Could he get past that? He didn't know. He _did _know that when he'd discovered she was missing, a part of him had gone missing, too, and he hadn't gotten it back until he'd held her in his arms three days ago. Like it or not, want it or not, she was a part of him now. Could he just turn his back on her, turn her loose to find her own way in the world? Didn't he owe his sister more than that? Didn't he owe Serafina more than that?

These thoughts had been going round and round in his brain since she'd returned, but he still hadn't been able to pin one of them down long enough for it to become his opinion. And there was always the danger to consider – not only the danger that she might be injured or killed due to her ignorance of all things magical, but the danger that those who wished Potter ill might use her to get to him. No one else seemed to have thought of that possibility, but Snape certainly had. He had more reason than most because those same people wouldn't hesitate to use Serafina against Snape himself if things went badly, as he had always believed they must, some day.

The others watched him thinking, Dumbledore patiently, Sera with increasing fear, and Harry with growing anger. How hard was this?! She had nowhere else to go! And Dumbledore had made it clear that this was Snape's decision.

"Sir!" Harry said, addressing Dumbledore, unable to stay quiet any longer. "Please! She must stay!"

"Harry . . ."

"No, sir, please! She deserves a chance! Do you know how often I wonder what would have become of me if you hadn't taken an interest, if you hadn't taken me under your wing and helped me to understand what I could be?! If I'm worth that, surely Sera is!"

"But I would think that you of all people, Harry, would understand that where there is _only _obligation, there is no love," Dumbledore pointed out. "You know what that can do to someone better than most."

"Yes, I know," Harry admitted, the memories of his time with the Dursleys assailing him. "And I wouldn't wish that on anyone. But Sera's childhood hasn't exactly been idyllic, now has it? She's already seen more than her share of heartbreak."

Harry turned on Snape now. "Have you ever talked with her about what life was like for her growing up? Has she ever told you about the neglect and the abuse, physical and . . . and otherwise? About how often she went hungry because her mother didn't remember to feed her? How she was always dirty and never had any friends because she was always moving from one hellish place to another?"

"Harry," Sera said, embarrassed, trying to stop him from airing all of her dirty laundry out there for everyone to see. "You don't have to . . ."

"Yes, I do, Sera, because despite all of that, look at the person you've turned into. You're not a child. You don't need someone to raise you or take care of you. You're capable of doing that yourself. You just need a place to call home, with people who love you. That's not back there. It's here. And I don't think it _would _be just obligation. I've seen you with Sera, Professor, and I know there's real feeling there. I know I messed some of that up, but don't hold that against her and let what I did destroy her and you."

Had it been appropriate, Dumbledore would have stood and applauded Harry's impassioned speech. Since it wasn't, he kept his seat and looked at Severus, waiting for his answer.

Harry had one last card to play, but he was keeping it up his sleeve for now. If Snape sent Sera away, then Harry had every intention of going with her. He knew this would pull no weight with Snape, but he suspected that if it came down to losing Harry or letting Sera stay even without her uncle's blessing that Dumbledore would do whatever it took to keep him there. At least, he hoped so. He was betting everything on it.

"For once in his life, Potter may have a point," Snape admitted. "Serafina, if you would like to remain here, with me, I should be happy to have you. But you must take seriously the rules that the Headmaster has laid down for you. You seem to share Potter's penchant for stretching the rules until they break into little pieces, but to do that now will almost certainly result in terrible consequences. If you can abide by these rules, I think we can make this work."

Sera jumped up and ran to Snape, hugging him fiercely. He returned the embrace, then pushed her gently away, brushing a stray lock of hair off her forehead as he did so. "Potter, take Serafina to her room."

"Her room, Professor?" Harry asked, confused. Sera had a room?

"The door directly across from my office. I will join you there shortly."

Harry got up and took her hand, and they started for the door. He turned and said, "Thank you. Both of you," and escorted Sera out.

"I must be insane," Snape said to Dumbledore as soon as the door had closed.

"If you aren't now, you will be shortly," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "Is there something else you wanted to discuss?"

"Yes. I won't forbid her from seeing Potter – I'm assuming that would be pointless. But I do feel that it's better for both of them that their . . . relationship . . . not continue, at least for now. You have to see the added danger that it puts Serafina in. If the Dark Lord learns of it, he _will _use it."

Dumbledore knew this to be true. "You're right, of course. And the danger to Harry increases as well if he is distracted by her and by his need to protect her. But you're also right that telling them to stay away from each other will likely be counterproductive. Teenagers so hate to be told what to do. We must steer them in that direction, gently, so that they come to think of the decision as their own. I will speak with Harry, point out the increased danger she could be in. And you, I assume, have given some thought as to how to protect her from those who may wish to harm her because of you?"

Snape nodded. He certainly had. "I will try to convince Serafina that Potter shouldn't be distracted. Not now. Not when everything is about to plunge into chaos. And someone needs to speak with both of them about the consequences of . . . repeating their mistakes."

Despite how much grief it had caused his niece, Snape couldn't help but feel that losing the baby was the best thing that could have happened, given the circumstances. The thought that they hadn't learned their lesson and would be engaging in unsafe behavior again wasn't something that pleased him at all, and it was something that he felt needed to be addressed. "If you won't talk with Potter, I will." Snape made it sound like a warning, which he supposed it was.

"No, you're right, of course, Severus. I will speak with him."

##########

Harry led Sera toward the dungeon, but it was slow going because she kept stopping to stare – at moving staircases, at actual ghosts floating around and hailing those below them, at portraits that not only moved but spoke to them – things she'd never dreamed existed.

And, in a move that astounded Harry, she stopped and made friends with Mrs. Norris, Filch's trouble-sniffing cat. Many had tried, thinking a relationship with the feline would buy them some peace with the cantankerous caretaker, but the cat, like her master, trusted no one. Sera actually had the nasty beast purring in her arms.

When the bell rang signaling the end of one class, Harry quickly pulled her into a room he knew would be deserted so that they wouldn't be spotted and have to endure the staring and the whispering behind the hands. When the hallway was quiet again, he led her back out, and they made it the rest of the way without interruption.

There was a door across the hall from Snape's office, a door Harry didn't remember ever having seen before. Sera opened the door slowly, and they entered the room together. Snape had provided her with a suite of rooms, and Sera happily explored her little sitting room (where she immediately found the stereo and turned on some music), the kitchen with all of the modern appliances, a bathroom, and a bedroom. The bedroom and sitting rooms contained doors to the outside, and Sera was ecstatic to find herself in a courtyard which contained a basketball hoop, a grill, and a picnic table. Sera checked in her bedroom and found that all of her clothes and possessions had been brought here, including her basketball! And her computer! At first, she assumed the internet was going to be useless, but when she saw that her uncle had also brought the telephone that had been in her bedroom (though goodness only knew who she'd want to call), she discovered it was attached to an actual working phone line. Her television set was in the living room. What else could she want? She threw herself onto the couch and grinned at Harry. "This is great!"

"Do you see what this means?" he asked.

She shook her head, puzzled.

"He brought all your stuff back here with him and set this all up. He intended all along for you to stay with him once they found us." Why hadn't he just said so? Why put Sera through all that uncertainty?

That thought made Sera very happy. She patted the sofa next to her, inviting Harry to join her, an invitation which he accepted. "Are you okay?" he asked, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close.

Sera sighed, laying her head on his shoulder. "I think so. I'm still sad, but it gets a little easier all the time. I'm glad I'm staying. If I'd had to go back there, by myself . . . I don't think I could have stood it."

"I'm glad you're staying, too" he said softly, sincerely. She looked up at him, and he leaned forward to kiss her. She tasted wonderful, as she always did, and kissing her had the usual effect on him. Before he could get too carried away, he heard an ominous throat clearing at the door and pulled his lips reluctantly away from Sera's. He didn't, however, pull away from her completely. Snape was just going to have to get used to the idea of them together.

His little attempt to make a stand was ruined when Sera hopped up off the sofa and launched herself at Snape. "I love this place, Uncle! It's just perfect. Thank you so much."

It was going to take some getting used to, all this hugging. Snape supposed there were worse things. Like watching Serafina kissing Potter – that was _definitely _worse. "I want you to be happy here, because as the Headmaster said, you're to be in these rooms a great deal. You _must not _wander about the castle or the grounds unescorted. I cannot stress that enough. I have put charms around your rooms and the courtyard so that no magic can be performed here, except by myself. But outside these rooms, you're at the mercy of . . . whoever or whatever harm might befall you. You are not to leave these rooms without myself, the Headmaster, or Potter. "

"Professor, I think we could add Hagrid, Ron and Hermione to the escort list," Harry suggested. "And Dobby, too, so that she can visit the kitchen?"

Snape nodded his assent. "You and I are the only ones who can open the door from the outside," he said to his niece. "The four of us are the only ones with the ability to see the door without having first entered the room. No one else, unless they're allowed inside first by one of us, will be able to see the door. Therefore, you must be careful whom you allow inside. There's a one-way glass in the door for you to identify who is in the hallway before opening the door. You are not to open it without being sure who is there first. I will be across the hall in my office or teaching. I have rooms there as well, so you will find me there most of the time. There is a bell, here, by the door. Ring it if you need me, and I will come."

"So I'm not even to go across the hallway by myself?" she asked. She didn't mean to be impertinent – she simply wanted to understand what the restrictions were. She fully intended to behave herself and follow the rules.

"For now," Snape confirmed. "I have brought here everything that was in your bedroom back home. If there are other things in the house that you would like, make a list, and I will see that they are retrieved."

Sera immediately started compiling a mental list. The ugly brown sweater that hung in the coat closet that had belonged to her father and that she wore on cold winter days around the house; her coffee mug, the one with the black bear climbing up over the rim that seemed to be kissing her cheek every time she took a drink; her winter clothing. She figured she'd think of other things, given time. "There are a few things that I would like to have," she said. "Thank you for all of this. This is an awesome place to hang out. We can have barbecues and shoot some hoops."

"The television works," Snape informed her. Although that simple statement didn't mean much to her, it was significant. One of the many protections around Hogwarts castle and grounds normally prevented devices such as computers, radios and televisions from working. Fortunately for her, the same person who had devised all of those protections could make exceptions.

"Oh, great. BBC!" she said, trying to sound cheerful about that.

"When you put it on, you will see that it receives the same rubbish that you were accustomed to at home."

"I can watch the Red Sox here?" she asked, awed. This was too much! "I love you, Uncle!"

"Yes, well. Be that as it may," he said uncomfortably. "This is your home, and I hope it's comfortable for you."

"Thank you, Uncle. For everything."

Snape turned to Harry. "Potter, don't you have class . . . homework . . . something constructive to do?"

Harry did (he was quite far behind still), but he knew Snape wanted him to leave, and he wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. "Nope," he said. "I've got nowhere to be."

"Good!" Sera said. "I'll make dinner for us! Now where do I get food?"

##########

After they'd eaten, Harry escorted Sera across the hall, and she poked her head into Snape's office. "We're going down to Hagrid's to get Lenni," she informed him. Over dinner, they'd decided that Lenni should stay here with her, to keep her company and because it was safer.

He nodded. "All right. Don't be out too late."

"Do you think you could do some magic thing so that Lenni won't be able to get out of my rooms? I'd hate for her to sneak out and get lost."

"I can do that," he told her. Sera was looking around his office, amazed. It looked exactly like his office had back home, as though he'd just picked it up and brought it back here with him, intact. This magic was cool stuff. "Is there something else you need?" Snape asked.

"Um, no. Unless you can make me a self-cleaning litter box." Off his look, she said, "Just kidding! We'll be back in a while."

"Leave my office door open, please," Snape requested. That way, he'd be able to see when she got back.

They took the long way to Hagrid's. Harry wanted to show her the Quidditch pitch and the herbology greenhouses, and he took her up to the owlery to meet Hedwig. Sera was fascinated by the stone circle. They'd passed it on their way to the castle on her first day here, but then hadn't been the time to discuss it. She'd read a book about time traveling through standing stones, and she asked Harry whether he thought that might be possible with this circle of stones. She walked around inside of it, touching each of the stones, to see if they would sing to her, but they remained silent. She decided she either didn't possess the necessary genes or it wasn't the right time for them to open. Harry decided she was slightly nutty. When they finally reached Hagrid's, it was starting to get dark. Hagrid welcomed them in eagerly.

"Lenni!" Sera exclaimed, scooping the cat up into her lap. "You won't miss her too much, will you, Hagrid?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Maybe a little," he admitted. "She's kinda grown on me. Are yeh staying then?"

"I am," she told him.

Hagrid smiled through his beard. "Good."

"You can come visit her any time you like," Sera invited.

"Hagrid," Harry said, "Sera's not allowed out on her own. She's to be escorted only by someone Snape trusts to protect her. We've put you on that list."

Hagrid beamed proudly. "Well, thank yeh. Any time you need me, just le' me know."

"We'd better be getting back," Harry said. "It's getting dark."

"Thank you for taking such good care of Lenni, Hagrid," Sera said.

"It was my pleasure. You two take care now."

By the time they returned to the castle, it was dark. Harry escorted Sera back to her room.

"We're back, Uncle!" she called into his office.

"Has Hagrid moved?" was his reply.

Sera looked at Harry, and he shook his head in the negative. "No," she answered. "Why?"

"I expected you back some time ago."

Sera rolled her eyes, but she made sure Snape couldn't see her. "Harry showed me around the grounds."

Snape made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a huff, and Sera decided that was a good place to end the conversation. "Good night, Uncle."

"Good night, Sera."

"Want your door closed?"

"No. Leave it open." He wanted to make sure Potter left.

"Say please," Sera teased.

"Please," Snape said dryly.

Sera turned to her own door. "Come in, Harry?"

"For a minute."

They went into her rooms and shut the door. Snape wanted to call after them to keep the door open, but he didn't. He had to trust her a little, didn't he?

As soon as the door was closed, Sera put Lenni on the floor, then launched herself at Harry, pushing him up against the door with a thud and kissing him hard. They kissed furiously for a time, Harry's hands roaming down her back and over her arse, Sera's running through his hair, before breaking apart. "I've wanted to do that all night. You should let your hair grow," she panted. "So I'd have something to grab onto."

Harry rested his forehead against hers. "I did that once, a year or so ago. Drove all the girls mad."

"Really?"

"No," he admitted. "Well, the long hair part is true. The part about driving the girls mad was a total fabrication."

"Their loss is my gain. Will you stay with me tonight?" she asked.

"I'd better not," Harry said, though he wanted to very badly. "We don't want to destroy in one night all the progress you've made with Snape."

"You could stay for just a little while, couldn't you?" she asked, pleading. It was clear what she was offering.

Harry kissed her once, tenderly. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. We . . . um . . . we don't want you getting pregnant again."

"Oh, I doubt that would happen so soon after . . ."

"Another good reason not to," Harry said softly, remembering the little life that wasn't meant to be. He hugged her. "I want to," he assured her. "Just not tonight. We need to be safe about it."

"Safe. I'm beginning to hate that word," Sera said with a sigh.

"Good night, Sera. Welcome to Hogwart's," Harry said, and with one final kiss, before he could change his mind, he left her.

"Good night, Professor," he called out to Snape as he left.

"A moment, Potter," Snape requested from the depths of his office.

What now? Harry wondered, but he entered the office and approached Snape's desk. "Yes, sir?"

"I merely wanted to inform you about the protective enchantments I've placed around Sera's rooms, specifically that I and I alone can perform magic within those rooms, and the fact that Serafina and I are the only two who can open the door from the outside. If something were to . . . happen to me, those powers will automatically revert to you."

"Oh," Harry said, surprised. "All right. Is there anything else?"

"No. That will be all."

Harry turned to go. "Good night, then, sir." If Snape answered him, it was too low for Harry to hear.

Harry walked quickly back to the dormitory, mulling over what Snape had just told him. If something happened to Snape, he'd be the only one, other than Sera, that could access her room and perform magic there. Was Snape expecting something to happen, or was he merely being cautious? Harry was surprised Snape had chosen him as the back-up – he would have thought Dumbledore the much more trustworthy choice from Snape's perspective.

Harry shook these thoughts off as he reached the portrait that would allow him access to his bed. He was quite tired and was looking forward to falling into the bed he hadn't seen for months. He'd been sleeping beside Sera's bed in an uncomfortable chair or in the bed with her when he thought no one was watching, but now that she'd been released from the hospital, he could start returning to his old life.

The Gryffindor common room was fairly quiet, and Harry skirted around its edges, trying not to draw attention to himself, not wanting to talk to anyone or have anyone talking about him. He hurried up to his room and was relieved to see Dean and Seamus were both asleep behind their curtains. Neville's bed was empty.

Ron sat up as he approached his bed. "Wasn't sure you'd be coming back here," he noted as Harry started to undress and get into his pajamas.

"I live here, don't I?" Harry asked good-naturedly.

"I thought so, but . . . maybe you have better options now."

"Hardly." Moving in with Sera wasn't something anyone had discussed, but he knew without even broaching the subject that Snape would be apoplectic and Dumbledore wouldn't be supportive.

"She's very pretty," Ron noted. "I have to confess, when Hermione told me she was Snape's niece, I was a little afraid she'd look like him."

"She doesn't, thank goodness," Harry agreed. "I'm really not sure what she's doing with me. She's totally out of my league."

Harry climbed between the cool sheets and lay back with a contented sigh, enjoying the feeling of simply being here.

They lay there for a time in the dark silence, until Ron spoke. "You're very serious about her?"

"Yes."

"Like . . . real love?" Ron asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, a little embarrassed to admit that, though he wasn't sure why he should be. "It's real love."

Ron was silent for a moment, pondering this. "Did you know right away?"

"Almost. Within an hour of meeting her, I wanted to kiss her. And I told her so." Harry smiled at this memory. It seemed like such a long time ago that he'd uncharacteristically bared his soul to Sera. Who would have guessed that the desire for one kiss would have led them down the path they'd traveled together over the last few months?

"So what's it like?" Ron asked tentatively after a longer silence.

"What's what like?"

"You know . . . being with a girl."

Harry felt his face coloring and was glad no one could see him. "You don't really think I'm going to talk about that, do you?!"

"Sorry," Ron said quickly. "I wasn't looking for details. I was just . . . wondering."

After a time, Harry said quietly, "It's spectacular."

Ron smiled in the darkness, then settled in for sleep. Harry, now no longer feeling peaceful inside, regretted that Ron had made him go down that particular path. If he wasn't so tired, he'd get up now, slip under his invisibility cloak, and make his way back to Sera. He'd missed holding her while they drifted off to sleep, sated in each other's arms. He sighed and rolled over, hoping sleep would claim him soon. It did, and for the first time in many weeks, he dreamed unpleasant dreams that had him waking up, breathing hard and soaked in sweat.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

17 _Protection_

The following day, Harry asked Professor McGonagall for a moment of her time as Transfiguration class ended. They waited while everyone filed out of the room. When they were alone, Harry turned to his teacher. "I just wanted to thank you. I understand from Professor Dumbledore that it was your idea to send me away. And I wanted you to know that, despite my unwillingness originally, it was just what I needed. So I just wanted to say thank you for sticking up for me."

Professor McGonagall seemed taken aback. "I would have thought, given recent events, that you would think back less than fondly on your summer experience."

Harry thought about that for a moment. "Two things stand out for me, Professor. First, I met the most wonderful girl in the entire world this summer. Obviously, if I hadn't gone, I never would have met her. She didn't even know who I was, but she helped me so much to deal with Cedric and Sirius. Maybe it was _because _she didn't know who I was that she was able to help so much. But I made peace with what happened, and I don't think I could have done that without her."

"I'm so very glad for that, Harry," McGonagall said. That had been her very reason for wanting to send him away, after all.

Harry smiled at her. "And the other thing is that, horrible as it's been for us . . . with the baby . . . that was a mistake I brought totally upon myself. It had nothing to do with Voldemort or any other dark wizard. And that may seem like a strange distinction to make, but it's important to me because it proves that my life may just be my own to live. Hopefully there are some successes to go along with the screw-ups, but at least this was _my _screw-up. Does that make any sense to you?"

Professor McGonagall stared at him for a moment, as though she was seeing a whole new Harry Potter, before she nodded.

"Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. Without you and the Headmaster and Professor Snape, I never would have met Sera, and I wouldn't be here. And I don't mean here physically, but here in the mental place I'm standing."

Harry finished and waited for her to speak. When she did not, he said, "I'll just be going now. Thank you."

Harry turned and had started to walk away before he heard, "I assure you, Mr. Potter, you are more than welcome."

##########

The very first knock on her door surprised Sera more than a little. She threw the door open to discover her uncle and, standing beside him, a rather severe-looking older woman bedecked in a green and black tartan robe.

"Did you check to see who was here before you opened the door?" Snape challenged.

"Ooops. Forgot."

"Close the door and do it again," he instructed. He wanted that to become habit for her. She should not be opening the door without first ascertaining who was calling.

Sera did not hide the ensuing eye roll, but she did as he instructed. When she opened the door again, she plastered on her most surprised expression. "Uncle! What a surprise to see you!"

"Impertinent brat," Snape mumbled as they entered. "Serafina, this is Professor McGonagall. Minerva, my niece, Serafina Mallory."

Professor McGonagall extended her hand, which Sera took with a smile. "So very good to meet you, my dear."

"And you, as well, Professor. Harry speaks very highly of you."

This seemed to please the older woman, but she covered it quickly. "I am so very sorry to hear of your recent troubles."

"Thank you, ma'am," Sera said, which pleased Snape enormously.

"Well, I have only a moment. If I might impose on you, dear, for a moment. Please don't feel compelled to say yes, but I have a request to make of you. Some of my first-year students who come from Muggle homes are having a difficult time adjusting to the castle and all of its magic. When Severus informed me that he had charmed your rooms so that no magic could be performed here, I immediately thought that this might be a refuge for them, just until they become more accustomed to things here."

"I'd love to have them," Sera offered. "Any time."

Minerva smiled warmly. "Thank you, my dear. I'll bring them by later this week to meet you."

"Great."

"So wonderful to have met you. Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Thank you." With one last smile, Professor McGonagall departed.

"Are you having a good day?" Snape asked after the door had closed.

Sera shrugged. "Still getting used to things."

"I wish to speak with you about what may be an uncomfortable topic."

Sera stared at him, afraid to know what he might be referring to. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "Would you like to sit? Tea maybe?"

"No, thank you. I don't expect this to take long. I must get back to my work in any event."

"Okay," Sera said, then sat and waited for him to begin.

"I wish to speak to you of your relationship with Potter," he said, and his manner betrayed that he did, indeed, find this topic most distressing.

"Are you talking about our sexual relationship?" she asked.

Snape flinched and actually blushed. "You are very blunt."

"Well, there wouldn't be much point in denying that we have such a relationship, would there?"

"No, I suppose not. It _is _that of which I wish to speak," Snape continued, feeling nine kinds of uncomfortable.

Sera saved him from a further search for the right words. "You want to know if we're using birth control."

"No," Snape corrected. "What I'd really like to hear is that you won't be engaging in such behavior again, with Potter or anyone for that matter. However . . ." he said, louder, over her attempt to interrupt, "since I know from my long experience with teenagers that this is an unrealistic expectation, and because I expect you would object strenuously if I put an anti-Potter charm on the door, I am going to have to accept the fact that you are free to do as you wish, since I cannot monitor your behavior twenty-four hours a day."

"I'm glad you're being so reasonable about this."

"Do not labor under the impression that I approve of you and he . . ." he said sternly. "I simply realize the futility of prohibiting you from doing this if it is your intention to do so. What I do insist is that you employ appropriate safeguards against further unintended consequences."

Sera met his eyes. "That, also, is reasonable," she agreed. "I will take care of it."

"This is important, Serafina. Don't placate me with promises you have no intention of keeping."

"I know it's important," she told him sincerely. "I _will _take care of it." She certainly had no desire to repeat what she'd just gone through any time soon.

"Thank you. I'll be going now," Snape said, relieved beyond words to have that discussion behind them.

##########

Later that day, after all of his classes had finished, Harry visited Sera. "How was your day?" he asked her after receiving a most welcome hug and kiss from her. They sat together on the sofa.

"It was good. Uncle brought Professor McGonagall to see me."

"Oh yeah? What did she want?"

"Well, she wanted to say hello, but she also told me that she has a couple of first-year students from nonmagical families who are still having a difficult time adjusting to this place. She said they're afraid to walk around in the castle, and she wondered if they might be able to spend some time here. She thought they might be able to relax here, since there's no magic."

"And what did you say?"

"I told her they could come whenever they like. It'll be good to have some new friends."

Harry liked Professor McGonagall now even more than he had five minutes ago (even if she had forced him into taking Potions). "Did you get lonely today?" Harry asked sympathetically, putting an arm around her.

"Not really. I had some other visitors."

"Oh? Who?"

"Dobby came up. What a cutie he is!"

Harry smiled at her description. The persistent little house elf wasn't quite so cute when he was nearly killing you in the guise of saving your life. "What did Dobby want?"

"Uncle spoke to him about me visiting the kitchen."

"And how did Dobby think the other house elves would feel about that?"

"Well, he seemed to think that they might be offended if I went down there and started cooking, like I was invading their territory or something. So Uncle put in a new bell, and whenever I want something from the kitchen to cook up here, Dobby will bring it up. He seemed very willing."

"House elves are weird that way," Harry told her. "They're basically slaves, but they'll all tell you that's the way they want it. Their lives are spent in service to others, and they're not happy if they don't have someone to wait on. But Dobby's different. He wanted freedom from his masters, and when he got it, he was thrilled. But even now that he's free, he's not happy unless he has someone to serve. Some of them can't even function without a master to serve," Harry said, thinking of Winky. "It's rather sad, really."

"So how does a house elf get free? Can't he just leave?"

"No. Like I said, they're practically slaves. The only way is for the elf to be presented with an item of clothing by his master."

"So Dobby was given an item of clothing? Let me guess – a sock?" She'd noticed the little elf's fondness for socks – he'd been wearing at least five of them when she'd met him.

Harry nodded. "A sock."

"Why did his master free him? Seems like anyone who would keep a slave in the first place wouldn't give him up willingly."

"He didn't intend to. He was tricked."

Sera could sense a story. "How? By whom?"

"Well, me. I put the sock in an old diary and gave it to Dobby's master. He tossed it to Dobby without realizing what was in it, and Dobby was free."

"A diary? _The _diary? The one from the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry had told her that story.

Harry nodded. "The same."

"So who did Dobby belong to?"

"Dobby served the House of Malfoy. You met the son on your first day here."

"That creepy Draco kid?"

Harry nodded again.

"So they must not like you very much for that, huh?"

Harry agreed. "That and other reasons. But I don't want to talk about the Malfoys."

"What _do _you want to do then?" Sera asked playfully.

"We could start with this," Harry said, and he kissed her.

When it ended, Sera admonished, "Don't start something you're not willing to finish, Potter."

Harry sighed. She was right. It wasn't fair, to either of them. "But I like kissing you," he complained.

"Then kiss me," she suggested.

"But I can't stop there, that's the trouble!"

"I might have a solution."

"Oh?"

"Uncle brought Hermione over today, too."

"What does one have to do with the other?" he asked, confused.

"I talked to her about it."

"You didn't!" Harry said, not looking forward to the next time he met up with Hermione.

Sera nodded. "I did. You said she's the most intelligent person you know. I figured she'd have some advice. I thought maybe I'd ask her next time she goes into the village if she could pick up some condoms."

Harry's face was getting more and more red as she spoke. She hadn't _really _asked Hermione that, had she?! He was never going to be able to look his friend in the face again!

"But she had a better idea," Sera continued, oblivious to his discomfort. "She said she could brew a potion that would act as birth control. I just have to drink it before we have sex, and it'll stop me from getting pregnant."

Harry pulled his arm away from her and threw it over his face. "I can't believe you did that! Hermione . . . she's going to . . . what were you thinking?!"

Sera was starting to get a little angry. "I thought you wanted to, and I assumed you didn't want me talking to my uncle about it!"

Well, that was certainly true. Given the choice between Hermione and Snape, there was no contest. But he still wished she hadn't talked to Hermione. "How am I going to face her?" he moaned.

Sera got up and stalked away from him to look out the window into the late afternoon sun in the courtyard. "Sorry," she said, without a trace of contrition. "Didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I guess it was all just talk, then."

"No, it wasn't." Harry stood up behind her, aware that she was angry and that he needed to do some damage control. "But she's like my sister. It's just . . . weird to think of you having that conversation with her."

"I'm sorry," she said, more sincerely this time. "I didn't think of that."

"You bloody Americans. Always so blunt," Harry joked.

"Are you mad?"

"No," Harry said, and he wasn't. Embarrassed, maybe, but not mad. He put his arms around her from behind and buried his nose in her hair and inhaled. "You smell good."

She leaned back into him in response. "I just want things to be like they were. Before." She turned to face him, and he pulled her closer. She began to sway in time to the music on the radio. "Dance with me."

"You know I can't dance," he reminded her, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from moving with her.

"Yes, you can," she contradicted. "You've just never thought of dancing as foreplay before."

Harry nibbled her ear lobe, causing her to arch her neck and press her lower body against his. "When did Hermione say she'd have the potion ready?" he breathed into her ear.

"Oh, _now _you're all interested in the potion?" she teased, grinding herself against him and enjoying the effect she was having on him.

"Mmm," Harry said as he nipped his way down her neck, stopping to push her shirt down her shoulder so he could continue his downward trek. He lowered his nose to a spot between her breasts. She held him there for a moment, enjoying the contact.

Harry knew he was walking down a dangerous path, one that could only end with him frustrated, but he couldn't seem to stop.

Sera dropped to her knees on the floor in front of him. "Just because we can't have sex doesn't mean we can't do other things." She unzipped and unbuttoned his trousers, then reached in and pulled out his already hardening cock. Harry groaned at the skin-on-skin contact.

"I've missed this," Sera murmured. She nuzzled at his balls with her nose before taking his prick into her mouth.

Harry tipped his head back and reached down to thread his fingers through Sera's hair. She had just established a steady rhythm when a knock on the door caused him to jump back away from her guiltily. He pulled out of her mouth with a soft 'pop'.

"Oh my God!" he said, backing away from her, looking around wildly. "I've gotta hide!"

"No, you don't," Sera contradicted, getting to her feet. "You have every right to be here."

"But not like this!" he said, waving a hand at his bits, which were still hanging out of his pants, though decidedly less rigidly now.

"Well, get in the bathroom then, you big baby," she said, pushing him in that direction.

"Girls have it so easy," he muttered as he went.

"Don't even start down _that _road, mister," Sera warned.

As soon as he'd shut the bathroom door, Sera opened the door to find Hermione in the hallway. "Hermione! Come in."

"Thanks. I'm on my way to dinner. Are you allowed to join us there?"

Sera shook her head. "No. Maybe some time Uncle will relax enough to let me go, but for now, I'm stuck here."

Hermione removed a pint-sized flask from her bag. "Here it is. Brewed it myself. You need take just one mouthful before . . . you know. It should protect you for up to three hours." Hermione obviously knew what this was for, and she couldn't meet Sera's eyes.

"Thank you, Hermione," Sera said sincerely, taking the bottle. "I'm sorry if this made you uncomfortable."

"A bit, perhaps," Hermione admitted. "But Harry's my friend, and . . . I want him to be happy. He seems happy with you."

"You're a good friend," Sera told her.

"Well, I'd better get going. Let me know if you need more. Has Harry been here today?" As she said this, her eyes fell on Harry's bookbag on the floor. Her eyes met Sera's now.

Sera rolled her eyes toward the bathroom and smiled mischievously. Hermione understood perfectly and smiled, blushing slightly, in return. "Harry? Here?" Sera asked innocently, raising her voice so Harry could hear her.

"Well, if you see him, tell him I'll meet him in the library after dinner. Transfiguration homework."

"Right. _If_ I see him, I'll tell him."

After she'd gone, Harry came out of the bathroom. "That was close. Think she knew I was here?"

"Not a clue," Sera lied. She insinuated herself back into his arms and began to move against him again. The song on the radio had changed to one with a much faster rhythm, but her body moved now to a beat that seemed to emanate from Harry's soul.

"Wanna try out that potion?" he asked, his breath catching his throat.

"Did you bring your wand?" she asked playfully.

"Never go anywhere without it," he assured her. "But before we do that." He dropped to one knee before her, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a ring. "Serafina Mallory, would you marry me some day when we're old enough not to need anyone's permission?"

Sera took the ring from him, looking down at him, surprised. She hadn't expected this so soon. "Where did you get this?"

"Fred and George Weasley." The twins had given the simple gold-plated band to Harry last year. It had been hexed so that the finger of anyone who wore it would turn black. Harry had sent an owl to the brothers asking how to remove the hex, and he'd gotten an answer this morning. He'd tried the ring on his own little finger first, to make sure the spell had been removed, before he'd felt safe giving it to Sera. "I know it's not much, and I'll get you something nicer as soon as I can, but it was all I had."

Sera slid the ring on, causing tears to form in her eyes. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

"You haven't answered me," Harry pointed out.

"Of course I'll marry you, you dope."

"Well, isn't that romantic?" Harry asked, climbing to his feet. "Now, where were we? Oh yes. You were asking about my wand."

Sera pulled the cork from the bottle and put it to her lips.

##########

Harry joined his friends at dinner thirty minutes later. He'd thought that facing Hermione would be difficult, but he found he was in such a good mood, it wasn't at all. He could tell she knew what he'd been up to, but he didn't care. He sat between Ron and Neville, all of them across from Hermione and Ginny, and he ate and talked and enjoyed himself thoroughly, choosing to disregard those fellow students who still felt the need to whisper about him with their classmates.

##########

It became Harry's habit to stop by Sera's rooms if he had a free period during the day or following his final class of the day, sometimes both. Sera was getting increasingly restless being cooped up. Frankly, she didn't understand why it was necessary, which didn't help her to accept her confinement with grace. Until one day, when she came to understand exactly what Dumbledore had meant by innocent-appearing dangers.

Harry had come to see her directly from Herbology class. He'd dropped his bookbag on the sofa and headed immediately to the loo. When he re-emerged, Sera was standing by the courtyard door, her hand held up to the glass, studying something.

"What have you got there?" Harry asked.

"A ladybug," Sera told him, studying the insect. "But not one like I've ever seen before." This one was much larger than any ladybug she'd ever seen – it's body was the same size as her smallest toe. And it's shell was indigo blue, rather than the reddish orange she was accustomed to seeing, with black spots

Alarmed, Harry crossed the room quickly, saying, "Sera, that's not –"

But before he could finish, the ladybug opened it's wings, as though it were going to fly away. Instead of taking flight, a greenish vapor shot from underneath its wings directly into Sera's face.

Sera screamed and covered her eyes as they immediately began to burn.

"Sera! Look at me!" Harry demanded, trying to pull her hands away from her face, but he was unsuccessful as she was fighting him for all she was worth.

Tears ran from Sera's eyes under her hands. "Let me see!" Harry insisted. "Open your eyes!"

"I can't!" Sera moaned. Her eyes burned as though they were going to incinerate completely, perhaps taking part of her brain with them. She scrabbled at her eyes, feeling that if she didn't gouge them out of her head right now, she'd go insane.

"Sera stop!" Harry ordered. Harry took hold of her hands again and forcefully pulled them away from her face. He held her hands tightly while she continued to struggle to free them.

"Open your eyes," he said as gently as he could given that he was wrestling with her still.

"Hurts too much!" she gasped. Sera had tried to open her eyes, but when she did, the searing pain seemed to increase. Holding both her hands in one of his own tightly enough that he worried for a moment whether he would bruise her, Harry used his free hand to gently open one eyelid with a thumb and forefinger. What he saw left him gaping – the sclera of her eye had turned completely black. As dark as her eye color was, he could see nothing under the lid except black.

"I can't see!" Sera moaned. She now had both eyes open. Both eyes were completely black, and she looked sightlessly around the room, tears streaming down her face. "Harry, I can't see!"

At least she no longer seemed to need to scratch her own eyes out. "Stay there!" Harry ordered.

He crossed the room in three strides and slapped the call button by the door as hard as he could. He then returned to Sera's side. "It's going to be okay," he told her, not at all sure that he was telling the truth. "Come and sit."

He led her to the sofa just as Snape came bursting through the door. "What is it?"

"Caecus beetle," Harry explained tersely.

Snape dropped to one knee beside his niece. He looked up into her eyes and saw the telltale symptom of exposure to the beetle's noxious fumes.

"She can't see," Harry said tensely.

"No, she can't," Snape said. One couldn't see after receiving a dose of caecus beetle venom. If the antidote wasn't applied quickly, the blindness would be permanent.

"Do you have a potion . . ." Harry started to ask.

"No. But Professor Sprout will have antidote. Go! Quickly! There's not a moment to spare!"

Harry ran faster than he'd ever run in his life. Up out of the castle, across the grounds to the herbology greenhouses. He skidded to a stop in front of Professor Sprout, who was teaching a class of first-years, barely able to breathe. "Antidote . . . caecus beetle . . . hurry!"

Thankfully, she understood, and she turned and went into her store room, returning seconds later with a bottle with a vaporizer attached. "One shot to each eye," she instructed.

Harry grabbed it and ran.

Harry returned to Sera's room and pounded on the door. Snape opened the door and grabbed the bottle from Harry's hands. He rushed to Sera's side, knelt, held her right eyelid open, and sprayed once into her eye. He then repeated the process on the other side.

The cure was almost as bad as the toxin. Sera covered her eyes again, moaning as tears streamed out from under her hands. Snape stared at his watch until sixty seconds had passed, then removed Sera's hands from her face. "Open your eyes," he ordered gently.

When Sera did, Harry could see that the whites of her eyes were once again white. "Can you see?" he asked her.

She nodded, tears of relief mingling with the tears being shed to rid her eyes of the foreign substances.

"Oh, thank God!" Harry breathed.

"Did you kill it?" she asked.

"Yes," Snape said. He'd tracked the bug down and reduced it to nothing while Harry was sprinting to the greenhouse. He stood up and turned on Harry. "How did it get in here?"

Harry thought he knew. "I came here directly from Herbology. It must have been on my robe."

Snape stood up, the relief at his niece's recovery turning to anger. "Rather careless, don't you think?"

"What do you suggest I do?" Harry asked hotly. "Strip off my kit in the hallway before I come in here?"

"Maybe you should stay away altogether," Snape suggested.

"Would you two stop?" Sera requested tiredly.

Snape knelt beside her again. "Do you understand now? Do you see what we mean when we tell you that there are dangers here that you can't even dream of?"

Tears still streaming from her eyes, Sera nodded. Snape stroked her hair once. "Go wash your face, my dear," he suggested kindly. "Be sure not to get any more of the toxin into your eyes."

Sera stood up and went toward the bathroom. "I'm sorry, Sera," offered Harry.

She stopped and smiled at him. "You have nothing to be sorry about. It was just a bug."

But Harry being Harry, he felt the guilt just the same. Which was just fine with Snape, who glared at Harry on his way out the door.

##########

The following day, Harry knocked on Sera's door after his classes had ended. He heard Sera bumping around inside, then she asked, "Who's there?"

"It's me, silly," he said, wondering why she didn't just look through the peephole.

"Are you alone?" she asked.

He looked exaggeratedly over his left and right shoulders. "Yup. All alone."

Sera opened the door, and Harry was surprised to see that she had a scarf tied around her head, covering her eyes. "What are you doing?" he asked as he entered and shut the door.

"Well, after yesterday, I got to thinking about what it would be like to be blind. So I was just doing a little experiment."

"You've been wearing that thing all day?"

"No. I tried just keeping my eyes closed for a while, but I kept cheating. I figured if I was really blind, I wouldn't be able to do that, so I put the scarf on."

"Oh," he said, dropping his book bag on the floor. He removed his robe and threw it over the chair. "Do you want to take it off now?" She was creeping him out just a little. He wondered if yesterday's experience with the beetle had affected her more than she'd let on.

"No. I'm going to leave it on for the whole day. Would you like to sit?"

"Sure," Harry said and made his way to the sofa. Sera tripped over Harry's bag as she tried to follow him, stumbling but catching herself before she fell to the floor.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"I'm fine. You left your bag on the floor."

"Sorry."

"I've been practicing walking around, so I know where all the furniture is. I wouldn't have tripped, but the bag was out of place."

"I said I was sorry," he repeated.

"I know. I'm just telling you why I tripped." She made her way safely to the sofa and sat beside him. She reached for his hand and found it on the second try.

"Why don't you take that thing off?" he asked, a little nervous.

"Later," she said. "I'd read where people who were blind compensated with their other senses. It's amazing, actually. When you can't see, you have to rely so much more on your sense of smell and touch and hearing. I've been so much more . . . aware of my surroundings today, and I can't see a thing!"

Harry noticed an angry red burn on the tips of the fingers on Sera's right hand. "What did you do to your hand?"

"I burned it. Turned the wrong burner on the stove at lunch. I thought it was cold, but it turned out it was hot. Lesson learned, eh?"

Harry shook his head at her. "You're a little mental, you know that?"

Sera shrugged. "Maybe so," she admitted. Her hands now traveled up Harry's arm, over his shoulder, up his neck, and began to explore his face.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm seeing your face with my hands," she said simply. "If I ever do go blind, I'll remember what you look like this way."

She started with his hair line, smoothing the hair away from his face. One finger found his scar, and she traced it as she had done on the first day they met. When she met his glasses, she removed them and gave them to Harry to hold, then resumed her exploration with his eyebrows, tracing them from their center out toward the side of his face, then smoothing his closed eyelids. Her fingers found his nose, his cheeks, his ears, his chin, and his mouth. Harry found this all strangely erotic.

"Sera," he began, as she ran a thumb over his bottom lip.

"Say my name," she requested.

"Sera," he repeated.

"No. Serafina. Say Serafina."

"Serafina," he obeyed, and her thumb seemed to study the way his lips moved as he formed the four syllables of her name. "Why are you . . ."

"Hush," she said, and she replaced her thumb with her lips. When she ended the kiss, she said, "Take your shirt off."

"Here, Sera? Shouldn't we move to the bedroom?" He had no objection to what she was proposing, but he wondered if this was the best place. "What if your uncle comes in?"

"Then he'll learn a lesson about barging in without knocking, I expect. Take your shirt off," she ordered.

Harry sighed but did as she asked, removing his sweater, his tie, and his shirt. She resumed her explorations, starting with his neck and working her way down. By the time she got to the waistband of his jeans, Harry was more than ready to move to the bedroom.

"Now your pants," Sera said.

"Sera, I really think . . ."

"Shut up and take your pants off," she ordered.

Gazing fearfully at the door, Harry complied. He closed his eyes and sat back on the sofa while she continued to memorize him with her hands, tormenting him in the process. When she finally stopped, at his toes, he gasped, "Sera."

"It's your turn," she said, and she pulled the scarf off of her head, squinting slightly at the sudden light. She untied the knot, then retied the scarf around Harry's eyes. "Can you see?" she asked.

"No," Harry said. "Can we please move to the bedroom now?"

Sera stood up and took his hand, leading him back to her bed. Harry never gave a thought to his clothes, scattered around her couch, which would be just as incriminating as the sight of him unclothed on Sera's sofa would have been had Snape walked in. He had other things to think about.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

18 _Future_

A week later, Harry knocked on Sera's door mid-morning.

"Harry!" Sera said after opening the door. "What are you doing here? I thought you had class?"

"I do. I'm skipping it. I had a dream last night. I want you to help me make it come true."

"What are you talking about?"

"We don't have a lot of time." Harry went into the bathroom and came back out seconds later, sliding something into the pocket of his robe. He took her hand and opened the door. After checking the hallway carefully and seeing it was Snape-free, he pulled Sera out the door.

"Where are we going?" Sera asked.

"Shhh. You'll see."

The castle was strangely silent in its between-classes state. After the portrait had allowed them access, Sera asked, "Where are we?"

"Gryffindor Common Room," Harry told her as he dragged her across the room.

"What are we doing here?"

Harry pulled her up the stairs and into his dormitory. He stopped at the foot of his bed and pulled the potion Hermione had brewed out of his pocket. Sera understood.

"Oh, you naughty boy," she said appreciatively, taking the bottle out of his hand. "You don't worry about getting caught?"

"Everyone's in class. If we hurry, we'll be fine. But just in case, I've got the invisibility cloak right here." He held it up to show her.

Sera tipped the bottle up and took a mouthful of the liquid. "Can we use the cloak anyway?" she asked with a sly grin.

Harry swirled the cloak around them and pulled her down onto the bed.

##########

Harry entered Charms an hour later and was given a message that Professor Dumbledore wanted to speak with him at the conclusion of his class. Wondering what that could be about, Harry sat down and tried to stay awake, contentedly drowsy from the recent encounter with Sera.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Harry asked after he'd been admitted to Dumbledore's tower office an hour later.

"Yes, Harry, sit, please," Dumbledore invited.

After he'd done so, Dumbledore asked, "How are things, Harry?"

"Things are fine, sir."

"Getting caught up on the missed school work?"

"Slowly, but surely, Professor," Harry assured him.

"And the other students . . . are they giving you a difficult time?"

"It's been better than I expected. There are some, of course, there always are, that don't want to let it go, but most of them have been very decent."

"I suspect once they set eyes on Miss Mallory, they rather understood, eh?"

Harry smiled in acknowledgment.

"She's very pretty," Dumbledore noted.

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed. Is this why the headmaster had called him here? To discuss how pretty Sera was?

"Your Miss Mallory has a rather unique sense of personal style," Dumbledore said.

Harry smiled at this. "If that's a very polite way of saying that she dresses like she's color blind, I'd agree with that." Harry thought that was rather like the pot calling the kettle fuschia, too, but he didn't say so.

Dumbledore smiled in return. "And how is Miss Mallory adjusting to her confinement?"

"I don't think she sees it that way, sir," Harry contradicted. "She's thankful she was allowed to stay here, and she's willing to do whatever it takes to make it work."

"That's good to hear. Some creatures aren't meant to be caged, though, so time will tell if she's able to remain satisfied with the situation. That's a bridge that we will cross when the time comes, if it does. I want to speak with you about the present, however."

"Yes, sir?" Harry asked, prompting Dumbledore when he stopped. If he didn't know better, he'd think Dumbledore was embarrassed about whatever it was he wanted to talk with Harry about.

"Yes, Harry. The present. You and Miss Mallory. Are you . . . getting along well?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and he began to see where this discussion might be heading. "Do you want to know if Sera and I have . . . resumed our . . . physical relationship?" he asked, phrasing his question as delicately as he could, but even so, he felt his cheeks burning and knew he was turning at least three shades of red. Thankfully, Dumbledore wasn't looking at him and seemed to be purposely avoiding his eye.

Though Harry couldn't see it under the facial hair, Dumbledore was his own shade of red. "Well, yes. But not because I have a voyeuristic fascination with a subject that is most definitely none of my business, I assure you. I simply want to be sure that you are . . . taking adequate precaution against . . . what happened before."

Harry sat back in his chair, hoping that he could set the Headmaster at ease and they could move off this awkward topic of conversation. "Yes, sir. I've got it covered." That sounded a little too literally descriptive, and Harry wished he hadn't phrased his answer that way as soon as it left his mouth. "What I mean to say is, Sera has a potion that prevents pregnancy."

Now Dumbledore was alarmed, and he sat forward and asked. "A potion? Who brewed this potion?"

"Hermione."

Dumbledore sat back, relieved. Not only could Miss Granger be trusted not to poison Sera purposely, she was more than capable of brewing a potion that actually did what it was intended to do.

"Well, that is certainly a relief, I must say."

"Is that all, sir? I should be getting back."

"No, Harry, I wish it was. I've been thinking about your situation. You realize, I am sure, that Voldemort has not relaxed his efforts to get hold of you and finally end what he started fifteen years ago?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I'm assuming he didn't just decide to forget about me and get on with his life."

Dumbledore nodded his agreement with that statement. "He most certainly has not. I know you don't want to hear this, but you recently have become at greater risk than ever before."

"I don't understand, Professor," Harry said, confused.

"You know that Voldemort is desperate and will use any means necessary to get to you?"

Harry nodded. He'd certainly proven that in the past.

"And you understand that that makes those around you vulnerable, as he may use any one of them to get to you? As he did by making you believe that he had captured Sirius in order to lure you to the Department of Mysteries."

Harry nodded again, this time with a slight flinch as the pain of that mistake hit him between the eyes again.

"The friends you've made here at Hogwarts have proved that they are capable of using what they've learned here and their natural abilities to take care of themselves, especially together, and you."

Again Harry nodded. They'd certainly done that.

"But your new friend has no such protection, has she?"

Suddenly, Harry realized what he meant. "You think Voldemort might try to go after Sera? To get to me?"

"The thought hadn't occurred to you?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir, it hadn't."

"But you now see the possibilities, I suspect."

Harry did, and they frightened him. "But he doesn't know about Sera. Now that I can do occlumency, why should he ever find out?"

"We have to assume that Voldemort has spies, Harry."

Harry immediately thought of Snape, but he was quite certain that not even Snape would sell out his own niece. It was true, however, that there were plenty of others here, Draco Malfoy for one, who would be more than willing to share whatever information they had that might be useful to Voldemort's plans. "What should I do?"

"You love Sera, and you want to protect her, I assume?"

"Of course."

"Then you must distance yourself from her. You can do that by sending her away, or just by putting some emotional distance between the two of you. If Voldemort learns that you have a deep connection with her, he _will _use her. You must know this."

Harry did, but what Dumbledore was asking him to do was unreasonable. He couldn't give Sera up. Was he supposed to just stop loving her?

"But isn't she safe here?" he argued. "There's no safer place on earth than Hogwarts, right? That's what everyone is always telling me." Harry could feel himself starting to get a little hysterical, and he fought to keep his emotions under control.

"Harry, listen to me. I know that it is difficult to accept that others older than you have wisdom and knowledge that you don't possess. Though it was a very long time ago, I, too, was once sixteen, and I have not forgotten the feeling that everything is at your fingertips, that the world is yours to navigate as you will. But we know that is not the case, don't we? I don't wish to remind you of painful memories, but had you learned occlumency as I suggested last term as well as you have mastered it now, Voldemort would not have been able to make you see that which was not true, Sirius and the others would not have had to come to your aid at the Ministry, and he would likely be alive today. And had you not disapparated Miss Mallory away from a situation that could have easily been resolved with a simple conversation, your child might still be growing in her mother's womb."

The tears that Harry had felt threatening at Dumbledore's assessment of his actions involving Sirius started now at the mention of his role in his unborn child's death. Dumbledore was sorry he'd brought Harry to tears, but he needed the boy to take this seriously. Things were going to get a lot worse very soon, and Harry needed his wits about him, or he would be killed, and Dumbledore simply couldn't allow that to happen.

"I don't say these things to you to bring you fresh pain, Harry, or to increase the guilt that I know you already feel," Dumbledore said softly. "You just need to see how serious this is. For both of you."

Harry wanted to argue with him, to tell him there had to be a way to protect Sera, that he was willing to risk everything to do so. But as Dumbledore had just so bluntly pointed out to him, everything he had wasn't always enough. There was still so much he didn't know, so much he had to learn.

If he needed any evidence of that, he need only look at the small cross in Sera's courtyard that bore the name "Sunny".

Harry hadn't spared a moment to wonder what his parents would think of what he'd done, but he did so now. They'd given their lives for him, and how had he repaid that selfless act? He'd killed his own child. Grief and guilt were now joined by shame, and they combined to push Harry's chin to his chest and force an anguished sob from his throat.

Dumbledore watched all of these emotions flit across Harry's face as the boy sat unable to speak in the chair, and he wondered if he had pushed too hard. When Harry dropped his head and sobbed, Dumbledore went to him, kneeling stiffly beside Harry's chair, and pulled Harry's head to his chest, smoothing his hair while Harry cried.

What number of tears was enough? Harry wondered, as he fought to get himself under control. He'd cried so many, you'd think he would have given a lifetime's worth already. Apparently, the source never dried up.

When Harry finally stopped, Dumbledore said, "I am so sorry, Harry. I did not mean for you to . . ."

"No, it's okay," Harry said, rubbing his nose with the sleeve of his cloak. Dumbledore got slowly to his feet, then conjured a handkerchief, which he handed to Harry. "You're right. Those things were my fault." Harry blew his nose, then resumed. "I never stopped to think, either time. I just plunged right in, thinking that I knew what was best. And obviously I didn't. I don't want anything to happen to Sera. I love her too much."

"I know you do, Harry." Dumbledore settled himself behind his desk again, wondering in the back of his mind whether he'd be able to get out of bed tomorrow morning. Old men such as himself had no business kneeling on the floor.

Harry sat, thinking, arguing in his head with all of the evidence that said he couldn't take care of Sera and protect her from anyone or anything that wished to harm her.

But what if she'd still been pregnant? No one would be suggesting that he send her away or pretend that he no longer loved her. If she _had _still been pregnant, everyone would have rallied around to make sure that she was safe, that Harry's unborn child was safe. And once the baby arrived, the risk would have been increased a hundredfold. No one would have suggested that he send his child away, that she was doomed if she remained in his presence. No, they would have moved heaven and earth to keep her safe. Harry himself would have given his own life to protect her and Sera. How could that not be enough?

Dumbledore watched Harry process, wondering if he'd gotten through to the boy or whether he'd become the intransigent teenager. He knew Harry felt guilt about the role he'd played in the deaths of Cedric and Sirius (he'd just brought the boy to tears over it, after all), but was it enough to make him realize just how much danger Sera was in by being with him?

"What if the baby had come?" Harry asked quietly.

"I'm not sure what you mean." Dumbledore had been surprised by the question.

"What if the baby had come?" Harry repeated. "If Sera was still pregnant, and if the baby had come, would you be suggesting that I send her away, that I send my own child away? Or would you help me protect her, protect both of them?"

Dumbledore saw where he was headed and knew he was dealing with the obstinate side of Harry, not the reasonably malleable one. "We have to deal with the situation that we have, Harry, not the one that might have been."

"But if it was possible then, it's possible now!" Harry pointed out. "If you help me, and Snape helps . . . we can protect her."

"Harry . . ."

"I love her, Professor," Harry interrupted. "I can't let her go. I've lost so much already. She's my world. We're going to get married, once we're old enough."

Dumbledore sighed. "Would you think about it? Just consider the possibilities?"

Harry said that he would, but Dumbledore knew he had no intention of doing any such thing.

##########

Later that day, Harry had his feet up on Sera's coffee table, a book open in his lap, when Snape knocked and then entered without invitation.

"Potter," he said upon seeing Harry here. "Where's Serafina?"

"Loo," Harry said. "She'll be right out."

"I understand you missed History of Magic today," Snape noted, his eyes trying to bore into Harry's.

Harry carefully dropped his eyes to his book. He didn't want to occlude his mind, which would be as good as an admission to whatever Snape was working up to accuse him of. "Had a slight headache," he lied.

"Hmm. Interestingly enough, I was unable to locate Serafina at the same time as you were suffering from your . . . headache."

"Really?" Harry asked, wishing Sera would hurry up and get out here. "Did you ask her where she was?" Getting their stories straight was crucial.

"I haven't yet had a chance. Ah, here she is."

"Uncle!" Sera greeted him when she entered the room.

"Serafina," Snape said. "I stopped by earlier today. You weren't here."

Snape saw the guilt in Sera's eyes before she looked away. "I was . . . out."

"With whom, might I ask?"

Sera looked down at her hands. "With Harry."

"And you were doing what?" Snape pressed.

Sera looked at Harry for help.

"She was helping me get over my headache," Harry finally said, staring straight at Snape. If he wanted the image, he could have it, but Harry guessed he wouldn't really want it. He was right. Snape looked away immediately.

"Perhaps next time you should see Madam Pomfrey," Snape suggested.

Harry tried to turn his grin into a grimace and ducked his head back into his book.

##########

The following afternoon, the second prong of the well-coordinated but so far not very successful attack took place in Sera's rooms. She'd been reading and listening to music in the courtyard and hadn't heard the knock at her door.

"I knocked," Snape said from the sitting room door.

"I didn't hear you," Sera said, looking up, smiling and removing the headphones.

"Little cool out here for reading, isn't it?" Snape noted.

Sera was dressed in a bright yellow sweatshirt, her cheeks pink in the afternoon chill. Snape had bewitched the courtyard so that it had an unseen glass ceiling of sorts that would keep out snow and rain. Sera could see the weather above her courtyard, but she could experience only the sunlight. The courtyard was heated by the sun, so when the sun was bright, it was really warm out here. When the sunlight was weak or the sun was hidden in clouds, it got quite cool, as it was now.

"I like to sit by her," Sera said with a nod toward the little cross, beneath which lay the remains of her child. "She's buried there."

Snape stared at the cross. He hadn't seen it before. He didn't know that Madam Pomfrey had provided Sera a small sealed box with the child's remains to bury in her courtyard garden. "Sunny?" he asked.

"That's her name," Sera explained. "If she'd lived, we probably would have called her Lily, after Harry's mother."

Snape started at the name. He certainly didn't need her to tell him where it had come from. For the very first time, Snape seemed to realize that they had lost not some subjective idea, but an actual child. To this point, he'd felt relief that the child was no longer a consideration. His feelings for Potter, he knew, played into that, as did the fact that Serafina was only sixteen and still a child herself.

However, he now allowed sadness to enter as well. The child would have been like a grandchild, more than likely the closest he'd ever come to one. He knew that Serafina was young and could have more children, but he had seen the course events were taking. He didn't need to possess any divination skills to know that their world would be changing drastically in the next few months, and he had no idea if he'd even be alive to see his niece bear more children. That thought, too, saddened him, and he had to clear his throat to start the conversation he'd come here to have.

"Can we go inside? I'd like to speak with you." He'd meant to have this conversation last evening, but Potter's presence here had prevented that. He'd chosen this time because he knew they wouldn't be interrupted.

"Sure," she agreed readily, wondering if she'd done something wrong, violated some rule she hadn't been aware of. Well, other than the Don't-Sleep-With-Harry rule which her uncle had never actually made but which she was pretty sure he wanted to. When they got inside, she asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. No, you've done nothing wrong. I just . . . things are going to be changing here over the next few months, and I want you to be aware of the situation."

This didn't sound good. "Would you like some tea?" she asked.

"Yes, tea would be nice," he said, glad of the chance to put this off for a few more minutes. He followed her into the kitchen and sat, formulating his thoughts, while Sera brewed the tea. When she put the cup before him, he said, "Thank you," and took a sip before starting. Sera sat opposite him and waited for him to begin.

"You know about the Dark Lord? Potter has told you about him?" he asked.

Sera nodded. "Yes. He's been trying to kill Harry since he was a baby. He killed Harry's parents. Lord Voldemort."

Snape winced and nodded. "That's right. He was very weak for a time, but he's becoming more powerful all the time. And the stronger he gets, the more Potter is in danger."

"But Harry's safe while he's here, right?"

"Most likely. The situation is fluid. But for now, yes, he's perfectly safe here. You know how I feel about him, I gather, and praising him is not something I do lightly. But he is . . . important to the survival of many whom the dark forces wish to eradicate. If Potter is removed from the Dark Lord's way, there will be little left to stop him from taking control of the entire world. And I am not exaggerating when I say that. Wizards and Muggles alike will feel the effects of his domination."

"But what about Dumbledore? Harry said he's the greatest wizard in the world and the only one this Voldemort guy really fears."

Snape winced again at her use of the name. "Dumbledore _is_ a very great wizard," he acknowledged. "But he cannot be expected to live forever, nor can he be expected to retain his powers until the end. I think that Potter has always been the one Dumbledore expected to hand his . . . reign over to, when the time was right. It appears that that time may come before either of them is ready."

Sera was starting to feel fear creep into her gut, caused by what her uncle was telling her and the very grave manner in which he was telling it. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because your presence here, while very much desired by me and by Potter, creates additional danger for him."

"What?! _I'm _putting him in more danger?!"

"The Dark Lord will use whatever means he has available to accomplish his goals, including using an innocent Muggle whom Potter happens to have feelings for against him. And while I am certainly concerned about you being in danger, I do believe that Potter would do everything in his power to protect you. My fear, in addition to what might happen to you, is that the added distraction would be disastrous to everyone else."

"You think that Harry would be so intent on protecting me that he would become more vulnerable to Voldemort?"

"I wish you would not say his name," Snape finally said. "I _know _he would. He will protect you at all costs, even at the _greatest _cost to himself."

Sera sat back, thinking furiously. Harry was in more danger, because of her. She loved him too much to want anything to happen to him, and if she caused that something, she didn't know how she could live with herself.

"You may think I'm being melodramatic or that I'm overstating the situation," Snape continued. "You may even think that I'm saying these things to try to drive a wedge between you and Potter because of my dislike for him. You'd probably be justified in thinking that way, but I assure you that the risk is very real. I am privy to certain information that even Dumbledore is unaware of, and I can see, to some extent, what is coming. We're all going to have to be at our best if we want to protect what we have worked so hard to build."

Though she probably did have reason to suspect his motivation, Sera believed what he was telling her. Harry had told her many things about this Voldemort, and she believed he was capable of true evil, that perhaps he was the embodiment of true evil. And though Harry hadn't dwelled on his own importance in the fight against this evil, she knew that if her uncle was telling her he was essential, given his dislike for Harry, that it had to be true.

From what Harry had told her, he'd been surrounded by unseen protectors since he'd gone to live with his cursed relatives after his parents' deaths, though he hadn't been aware of them at the time. That kind of coordinated, sustained effort wouldn't have been undertaken if Harry were a normal, albeit magical, boy. His very existence seemed to provide some protection by the simple fact that while Harry was alive, Voldemort's main focus was on finding a way to get to him and erase him as the last remaining obstacle. If Harry were removed, he could turn his attention fully to whatever his dastardly plan might be, and there would be few left who could stop him. The heavy weight of this realization settled on Sera's shoulders.

"What do you think I should do?" she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

"I think you need to let him go," Snape advised, just as quietly.

Although she now saw why this might be necessary, she didn't know if she could do it, and she said so. "I don't know if I can just . . . stop loving him. It's not like there's a switch I can throw."

"I know," Snape said, and he did. "Loving someone isn't something we choose to do. It just happens, often despite our best attempts to prevent it. And you can't shut it off just because it becomes painful or inconvenient. I know these things. And while you may not be able to stop loving him, you can make him believe that you have and that you're both better off if you remain only friends."

"Can I still stay here?"

Snape was surprised by this question. "Of course you can, child. I didn't offer to let you stay here because you were Potter's girlfriend. I did so because you're my niece. And I love you. Despite my best attempts to prevent it," he added with a wry smile. He'd never told anyone he loved them before. Not his mother, not his sister, not Lily. The words felt strange in his mouth.

Sera smiled weakly at him. She appreciated those words, because other than Harry, no one had ever said them to her. "You think it's that important?"

"I know it is," he assured her.

"Then I'll do it. For Harry."

Snape stayed long enough to finish his tea. When she escorted him to the door, she hugged him, and he, for the first time, really hugged her back, trying with that simple physical act to provide her with the strength to do what must be done and the fortitude to survive the aftermath.

Sera watched her uncle cross the hallway and enter his office. He'd no sooner closed the door than the object of their recent discussion turned a corner and began to walk toward her.

"Harry," she said, her heart dropping into her sneakers. "Come in. There's something I need to talk to you about."

##########

Harry looked into Sera's eyes and could see the torment there. He didn't know the reason for it, but she looked like she needed a hug, so he gave her one. When he tried to back away, she held him even tighter. She had her head on his shoulder, and he was startled to discover that his shoulder was wet. "Sera?" he said, stroking the back of her head. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said. "Everything."

He forced her back away from him and looked into her beautiful dark eyes, sparkling with the tears that remained unshed. He cupped her face with both his hands and said softly, "Tell me."

Instead of speaking, she kissed him. While normally very passionate kissers, this kiss seemed to contain something else: a desperate longing to keep at bay what must be dealt with combined with a fervent wish that things could be different. Without speaking, Sera took Harry's hand and led him to her bedroom.

It was a long while later before either one of them felt like speaking. Darkness had begun to descend, and they'd missed dinner. Sera thought about putting the light on, but decided this discussion was easier started if she couldn't see him all that well.

"I need to talk to you," she said with finality as she lay beside him in the gathering gloom.

Sera took a deep breath, focused on how much she loved Harry, and prepared to stab a figurative dagger into his heart. She sat up, turning her back to him, still undressed but in no hurry to cover herself. She felt naked and raw on the inside – might as well look that way on the outside, too.

"I think . . . I've been thinking about . . . I don't want to . . ." This wasn't going well. How was she going to start? She'd had no time to rehearse before he'd showed up, so very _there_, in front of her.

Harry dragged himself up into a sitting position, his back against the headboard, his lower half covered by the sheet, his chest bare. "It's okay," he told her. "Take your time. Why don't you come back in here," he invited, patting the space beside him. Her upset earlier was worrying him – what could be wrong?

She ignored the invitation. She wouldn't be able to do this if she was touching him. "I've been thinking about us," she started again. "I think . . . I think we should . . . just be friends." There, she'd said it.

"You . . . wait, what?" he asked. That was pretty much the last thing he'd expected to hear.

"I think it would be better if we were just friends," she repeated without any amount of conviction.

"You just brought me in here and had sex with me! Is that what 'just friends' do? I don't think so, because I've _got _friends, and I've never had sex with any of them! What is going on here, Sera?!"

"We're still so young. And you have school work to concentrate on. I wouldn't want you to fall behind because you're here all the time."

"Well, that's a load of rubbish! I can take care of my school work, and have time for you." An awful thought occurred to Harry. "Have you found someone else?"

"Of course I haven't. How could I find someone else? Unless he just happened to wander in here! It's not like I'm out there trolling around now, is it?"

"So was I just a convenient way for you to get yourself here? Were you using me all this time?"

"Using you?" Sera repeated, whirling around to face him now. "How could you think I was using you?" He had to know how much that particular insult would hurt, given what she'd confessed to him about her desire not to use men like her mother had done. "Do you really believe that?" she demanded.

Harry didn't, and he did know just how hurtful that particular accusation was, and he was sorry he'd said it. "No. I'm sorry. I just . . . wasn't expecting you to break up with me when I walked in here." And that's when a small idea started trying to form itself around the edges of his brain.

Sera jumped up and began to pace, either forgetting that she was naked or not caring. Harry couldn't help what happened to him as he watched her stalk back and forth before him. This certainly wasn't going to help matters, but he didn't tell her to sit down or cover up.

"If you really think that I was just using you as a way to get my uncle to take me in, then I guess I was wrong about what I thought we had," she said, as though he hadn't just denied feeling that way. She couldn't help it – she was getting angry, too. "And just where do you get off accusing me of cheating on you? There's never been anyone else! You know that! That's not what this is about!"

Harry got out of bed and stood in front of her. He spared a moment to think about how absurd this scene was - both of them upset, he more than half hard, and having this discussion as though they weren't both naked as the day they were born. "Then what _is _this about?" He put one hand on each of her shoulders, gripping her firmly.

Sera whirled away from him, breaking his hold on her. If she looked at him now, not only would she not be able to go through with this, she'd probably push him back onto the bed and do something really naughty to him.

"It's about you, and what's best for you. I know you don't believe that, but you'll be better off if you're not having to worry about me all the time."

And the little ghost of an idea suddenly formed itself into startlingly clear knowledge . "Did Dumbledore talk to you?"

Sera hesitated. "No. Uncle Severus did."

"Look at me," Harry ordered gently.

Sera turned to face him, and just seeing him there crumbled her resolve.

"Did Snape tell you that I was in more danger because of you, because Voldemort would be willing to use you against me?"

Sera nodded. "How did you know?"

"Because Dumbledore told me yesterday how much more danger _you _were in because Voldemort would be willing to use you against me, and I probably wouldn't be able to do anything to prevent it."

"They did this together?" Sera asked. "Dumbledore went to you, and Uncle came to me, with the same purpose in mind? To break us up?"

"It appears so."

"Of all the manipulative, devious, scheming . . . What are we going to do?"

"I don't know. I told Dumbledore that I loved you and that I couldn't just stop doing that. I said that if you were still pregnant no one would expect me to do that, and they'd all help me to keep you safe. I don't see any reason why that can't happen now. I can't let you go, Sera. I just can't!"

"Oh, Harry!" she said, throwing herself into his arms. "Thank God! Uncle said . . . and I wanted to do what was best for you, because I love you too much to let something happen to you. If it was my fault . . . I couldn't go on living!"

Harry wrapped his arms tightly around her. "I feel the same way," he said into her hair. "So we just have to figure out a way to keep you safe. They _have _to help me! And if they don't, then . . . I'll do it myself. Even if we have to run away again! We'll figure it out!"

"Thank you," she moaned into his neck, relieved beyond words that she didn't have to sever her relationship with him. It would be like cutting off a finger. Or maybe even a whole hand.

"It's getting a little cold," Harry pointed out. "Maybe we ought to get dressed?"

"Or we could get back into bed," Sera suggested, and Harry thought maybe that was a better idea.

**##########**

Sera led Harry to the door and opened it. When she spotted her uncle in his office across the hall, watching them, she pulled Harry close and kissed him, long and passionately, their arms wrapped around each other, unashamed. Harry backed her up against the door frame, pressing himself against her. She plunged her hands into the back pockets of his jeans, pulling him closer. When they finally broke apart, she said, "Good night, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow. I love you," loud enough for anyone within shouting distance to hear.

"I love you, too, Sera. Good night." And with one last, brief kiss, he turned to leave her. When he looked up and noticed that Snape was watching them, had been watching them, his face began to redden, and he smiled gamely before hurrying away.

Sera stalked across the hallway and into Snape's domain. "I am _so _not happy with you!" she spit. "How dare you? You and Dumbledore and your little plan to break Harry and me up. I actually believed that you were trying to do what was best for Harry! But all along, you had your own motives! I can't believe I was so stupid! Harry loves me, do you hear? He doesn't want to break up with me, no matter what, and there's nothing you or Dumbledore can do to make that happen because I love him, too! So just stay out of our lives, all right?!"

Without waiting for an answer, Sera stomped her way out of his office and back into her rooms, slamming the door shut loudly as she did so. Snape watched her go, torn between amusement and dismay.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

19 _Abduction_

"Excuse me, Professor," Harry said politely from the doorway to Snape's office. Snape wasn't happy with either Harry or Sera since they'd refused two days ago to go along with the master plan Dumbledore and Snape had cooked up. "Sera's not answering the door. Do you know where she went?"

"She hasn't gone anywhere," Snape answered without looking up. "Try knocking again."

Harry re-crossed the hall and did just that, but Sera still did not come to the door. "Sera!" he called. "I brought you some biscuits from dinner. The ones you like so much. Open the door!"

Harry waited, but he heard nothing from the other side of the door. He looked back in at Snape, who had already gotten to his feet and was approaching quickly, alarmed that Sera hadn't made an appearance yet.

Snape shouldered Harry roughly out of the way and knocked on Sera's door as he pushed it open. "Serafina?" he called. "Why aren't you opening the door?" He entered the apartment, followed closely by Harry.

"I'll check the bedroom and the bathroom," Harry said, his worry ratcheting up at her continued absence.

When Harry returned to the living room, Snape was entering from the courtyard. "She's not here," they said together.

"When did you see her last?" Snape asked.

"Right before lunch," Harry said. He'd been here for a visit before going off to lunch and class. "You?"

"I haven't seen her since this morning. Where could she have gone?" he mused. "She knows better than to wander off on her own."

Harry rounded on Snape. "What are you playing at?"

Snape stared coldly at him. "What are you accusing me of?"

"Is this some sort of game? To make me realize how much danger Sera is in? Because if it is . . ."

"I assure you, I do not play games with my niece's life. I have no idea where she is at this moment."

Harry wasn't sure why, maybe it was the worried look in Snape's eyes, but he believed Snape was telling him the truth, and his own worry increased tenfold. "I know she's not with Ron or Hermione, because I just left them in the Great Hall. I'll go find Hagrid, see if she's with him."

"And I'll check the kitchen. Perhaps Dobby took her there."

"And we'll meet back here," Harry said. At Snape's nod, Harry took off.

Harry raced to Hagrid's hut, but Hagrid was nowhere to be found. Nearing frantic now, Harry tore back up the hill toward the castle. As he neared the covered bridge, he saw Hagrid's hulking form making its way down from the owlery, and he changed course to intercept him.

Harry skidded to a stop in front of Hagrid, breathing heavily. "Is Sera with you?"

"What? No, I haven' seen Sera for a couple o' days. Why?"

"She's missing. She's not in her room. No one's seen her since lunch," Harry panted out.

"Missing? But how?"

"I don't know. I've got to get back to her room. Snape was checking the kitchen."

Alarmed now, too, Hagrid went with Harry, leading the way, his step hurried. Harry had a hard time keeping up, even though he was sprinting at his top speed. When they arrived back at Sera's room, Harry pounded on the door, but received no response. Apparently Snape hadn't returned from the kitchen yet.

"Hagrid, stay here. When Professor Snape comes back, tell him you've not seen her. I'm going to find Ron and Hermione. If we're going to have to look for her, we'll need all the help we can get!"

Harry took off again, this time taking stairs two at a time, fighting a stitch in his side at the exertion, until he screamed the password at the fat lady, who begrudgingly opened up to allow him access, lecturing him on his manners all the while. Ron and Hermione were both sitting before the fire, and he ran to them, now unable to speak at all while he tried to recover his breath. He bent over, clutching his side. Ginny approached, having witnessed his distress.

"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked, alarmed.

"Sera!" he gasped. "Missing."

They both jumped to their feet. "Let's go!" Ron said, and the other Gryffindors watched them tear out again, looks of confusion on their faces.

Hagrid was still in the hallway outside Sera's room, worried he was too large to be inside, but the door to her room stood open. Harry raced in and stopped when he saw Snape, Dumbledore and Dobby there. Though Dobby's presence answered his question, he asked it anyway. "Was she with you, Dobby?"

"No, Harry Potter, sir, Miss Sera was not with Dobby. But Dobby wishes to help search for Miss Sera. Dobby knows that Harry Potter cares for Miss Sera, and Dobby will do everything he can to bring her back to him."

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry said, near tears now that his last hope had been extinguished. "What do we do now?" he asked, addressing Dumbledore.

"Now we calm down, just a little," Dumbledore advised, seeing the wild look in Harry's eyes. "We must search the castle. From top to bottom."

Dobby tugged on Harry's robe. "Dobby wants to help Harry Potter. Dobby could be gathering the house elves to search."

"An excellent suggestion," Dumbledore noted. There were over one hundred house elves in Hogwarts employ. They could easily search the top four floors of the castle in half the time it would take their small group to do the same. "Mr. Weasley, go with Dobby. Use Harry's most excellent map and send two house elves to apparate into each room on the top four floors of the castle. Instruct them to search each room thoroughly but with great caution."

"Is it possible Sera would show up on the map?" Hermione asked.

Everyone looked at Harry. "I don't know. I've never had to look for her there. Filch does, so I _assume _she would."

"But she's more of a Muggle than a Squib, isn't she?" Ginny pointed out gently, with a nervous look at Professor Snape, unsure if she was insulting him directly or indirectly by labeling his niece a Muggle. "Maybe it's different."

"She could see the castle," Harry said quietly. "When we first got here and were walking up from Hogsmeade. She could see the castle." As everyone in the room knew, Muggles could not see Hogwarts from the outside – it was enchanted to look like a crumbling ruin, to keep away unwanted visitors. The fact that Sera could see it meant she was more than a Muggle. "I think Hogwarts considers her a Squib."

"Check the map carefully then, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore instructed. "Perhaps we'll find her that way."

Ron nodded and left the room as Dobby apparated away.

"Miss Granger, go round up the remaining teachers and ask them to meet me in the staff room. We will search the second and third floors. Miss Weasley, you and Miss Granger will search the first floor. Harry, you and Severus will search the dungeons," Dumbledore instructed.

"What about me, sir?" Hagrid asked.

"The owlery, the boat house, and the Quidditch pitch for you, Hagrid."

Hagrid nodded once. "Righ'. I'll be off then."

"We'll meet back here," was Dumbledore's last instruction before everyone left to search their assigned areas.

##########

Two hours later, they began to trickle back into Sera's rooms. Harry and Snape had finished first, and after nearly running into each other twice as they both paced the small living room, Snape went out into the hallway to pace there, leaving Harry to worry inside alone. Hermione and Ginny turned up next, followed by Ron, then Dobby, then Hagrid and Dumbledore. The entire castle had been searched, and no sign of Sera had been found. Harry sat dejectedly on the couch, his head in his hands, trying to ignore the sympathetic looks his friends kept shooting his way.

"We must assume she's not in the castle," Dumbledore stated. "We must now search the grounds."

"You mean the Forest?" Ron asked with a gulp. He'd hoped never to enter that forest again.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," Dumblefore confirmed. "The Forest is our next logical location to search. Hagrid, have you a map of the forest?"

"Yes, sir. In me hut. Would you like me to fetch it?"

"No. Your home makes a much better base of operations when searching the forest, if you do not mind?" At Hagrid's nod of invitation, Dumbledore continued. "Miss Weasley, the other staff members are waiting in the staff room for word. Would you go there and tell them to meet us at Hagrid's? We'll head there directly and draw up a search grid."

"Yes, sir," Ginny said, and she bolted from the room.

"To Hagrid's then," Dumbledore said briskly, and everyone began to file out. Numb with fear, Harry found it difficult to get moving. Nearly everyone had gone when Dumbledore said quietly. "We _will _find her, Harry."

"But what if whoever took her has already taken her off school grounds?" Harry asked in despair.

"Then we won't stop looking for her until we find her, wherever she might be," Snape said firmly from the doorway. "Come. We're wasting time."

Harry got to his feet, spotted the brown sweater that had belonged to Sera's father on the back of the couch, and picked it up, an idea forming in his head.

##########

Hagrid had a map of the forest spread out on his table when Harry arrived with Snape and Dumbledore. Dumbledore tapped the map with his wand, and evenly-spaced grid lines appeared instantly. As the other teachers began streaming into the warmth of Hagrid's hut, Dumbledore used a quill and began writing names into each square, assigning each person present an area to search.

"Hagrid, have you got a length of rope I could use on Fang as a sort of leash?" Harry asked quietly while Dumbledore worked.

"Sure," Hagrid said, taking a six-foot length of thick rope from a nail on the wall. "Wha' are yeh thinking?"

"Well, he's a hound, right? Maybe he can find her by her smell."

Hagrid looked skeptical. "I dunno, Harry. He's never shown any sign of trackin' ability."

"It's worth a try though, right?" Harry realized this question was directed at the room at large, because everyone had stopped what they were doing to look at him.

"It cannot hurt," Dumbledore agreed. "You have your assignments everyone. If you find Miss Mallory or encounter trouble, you will shoot red sparks into the air. I urge you all to use extreme caution in the forest. I want you all back safe." And they began to leave the cabin one by one.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, placing a restraining hand on Harry's shoulder as he made to follow. "I think it wise if you remain behind, here."

"What?" Harry was incredulous. He didn't actually think that Harry was going to stay here if there was any chance that Sera was lying, possibly injured, somewhere in the Forest, did he?

"Has it occurred to you that this may be a trap?" Dumbledore asked him quietly. "For you?"

That hadn't occurred to Harry, but it hardly made a difference, as it hadn't made a difference that he may have been walking into a trap when he thought he was saving Sirius from Voldemort. That memory gave him pause, but in the end, what could he do differently? Sera was out there somewhere, and he needed to find her.

"It has," Harry said, lying just a little. "But it doesn't matter. She may be out there, cold and scared and maybe hurt, and I'm not going to sit here while others look for her."

"That's what I thought you'd say," Dumbledore conceded. "But I had to try."

Ginny was assigned to stay behind in the cabin. When searchers returned, she was to assign them the next area of the forest to be searched and mark off the sections that had already been searched. Dobby apparated back to the kitchen to task other house elves with preparing food and drink and bringing it to Hagrid's for the search party. The forest was large – a complete search of it would take well more than twenty-four hours.

Hagrid affixed the length of rope to Fang's collar and handed the end to Harry. "We're gonna get her back fer yeh, Harry," he promised.

"Thanks, Hagrid. Come on, Fang."

Harry led the dog out the door. In the direction of the trees, he could hear people spreading out and preparing to make their way into the dark and dangerous forest. Searchers would be positioned close enough to each other so that the could see each other's wand light. It would take longer this way, but it was the only way to ensure they didn't miss anything in the denser part of the forest and also ensure that if anyone ran into one of the more dangerous and hungry occupants of the forest, assistance would not be far away.

Harry led Fang purposely away from the forest and back toward the castle. He pictured the scenario in his mind, pretending it was he who had taken Sera: he'd lured her, somehow, from the safety of her rooms; incapacitated her so that she could not speak or fight back; and needed to get her to the forest without being seen. What was the most likely path he would take? Harry headed in the general direction of the greenhouses. They were close to the forest, and the many buildings would provide shelter for anyone sneaking around.

When Harry reached the greenhouses, he knelt in front of Fang, Sera's jumper in his hand. He held it up, encasing the big dog's nose in Sera's smell. "Get a good whiff," Harry urged, forcing Fang's nose back into the jumper when he tried to pull away. "Please, Fang, this is important."

Appearing to understand, Fang gamely sniffed away inside Sera's jumper until Harry pulled it away and held it up over his head. "Okay, Fang, find Sera. Come on, boy, let's find her."

Fang raised his head to the jumper and sniffed hopefully. "That's right," Harry said encouragingly. "That's Sera. We need to find her. Find her, Fang."

Fang dropped his nose to the ground and began sniffing half-heartedly. Harry let him go where he wanted, though he appeared to be wandering aimlessly and Harry's insides were screaming at the dog to hurry up.

What could have happened to her? he wondered as he waited for Fang. If she'd just decided to take a walk, against all of the rules that had been set down for her, he was going to kill her for making him, for making all of them, worry like this. And if someone had deliberately taken her, deliberately hurt her, he was going to kill whoever it was. And if he didn't get her back, he was going to kill himself. The forest was huge, and if Sera was in there, it could take days to find her searching methodically. And that didn't take into consideration all of the things in the forest that could eat a helpless girl. Or the fact that whoever had Sera might move her constantly to evade capture, perhaps even into an area of the woods that had already been searched. This _had _to work. "Come _on_, Fang!" Harry muttered.

As though in response to Harry's entreaty, Fang suddenly started sniffing energetically in a straight line. Nose to the ground, he began to tug Harry back toward the castle.

"No, Fang! The other way!" Harry hauled Fang around, hoping the dog would be able to find the trail again. Fang did, and with a resounding "whoof!", he put his nose to the ground and made a beeline for the forest.

"Good boy, Fang," Harry encouraged. Fang took Harry into the forest about a hundred yards north of where the closest searcher had entered the forest. Fang never slowed as he went through the dense undergrowth. Harry had to stop him more than once to untangle the rope from around small trees when Harry couldn't follow the path Fang had chosen. Harry's face and hands were getting scratched from the branches and brambles, but he hardly noticed in his desire to find Sera.

After what Harry estimated was thirty minutes of walking, Fang stopped in a small clearing, appearing confused. He snuffed the ground, wandering in circles, trying to find that familiar scent. "What is it, Fang?" Harry asked quietly. "Where did she go?" The dog looked up at Harry and whined sadly.

Harry closed his eyes and listened, but he could hear nothing other than his own heart beating and Fang's panting. What had happened? Had Sera been picked up off the ground here? Is that why Fang had lost her scent? Harry played his wand's light around the small clearing. A large tree had fallen on one side of it. If someone was heading in that direction with an unwilling person with them, might they have picked that person up and carried them over the obstruction?

"Come on, Fang," Harry urged. He climbed over the fallen tree and turned to pull Fang up over it as well. In the beam of his wand's light, Harry could see an old path in the woods now. Fang's nose got busy again, and he began to move forward more confidently now. He'd picked up Sera's scent again.

Back at Hagrid's, the first of the searchers were starting to return. As they did, Ginny sent them back out after a drink and a snack.

Harry was able to follow the path easily as he trudged along behind Fang, grateful for the dog's reassurance that he was going the right way. After he'd followed the path for a little more than fifteen minutes, he thought he spotted a fire through the trees.

"Nox," he whispered immediately and pulled Fang to a stop. Fang whimpered, and Harry shushed him. Creeping forward as quietly as possible, Harry approached the small fire, which he could see was in the middle of a clearing. Fang apparently could smell something that was making him uneasy because he began to whine softly.

"No, Fang!" Harry whispered. He knelt beside the dog and took his great furry head between his hands. "You've done brilliantly. Now go find Hagrid. Find Hagrid," he repeated. "Do you understand?"

The large brown eyes told Harry that he did. Harry unfastened the rope from Fang's collar and said, "Go, Fang. Find Hagrid."

Fang ran back in the direction they had come. Harry cringed at the noise he made, then turned back to the clearing. He raised his wand to send up red sparks, but stopped before doing so. Did he know that Sera was here? No, not for sure. Was it worth interrupting the other searchers if he wasn't sure? And if Sera _was _here, and her kidnappers saw the red sparks, what would they do? No, better to wait until he'd had a chance to scope out what was going on first.

Harry crept quietly closer to the fire until he was on the very edge of the clearing. After a moment of waiting, hidden in the trees at the outer edge of the circle of light given off by the fire, a figure entered the circle of light and bent to place another log on the fire. Sparks shot up at the disturbance, and the figure spoke.

"Sure you wouldn't like to come closer to the fire?" he asked. The voice was slightly familiar to Harry. "Must be cold over there."

For a frightening moment, Harry thought the man was addressing him, but then he spoke again. "What's that? I couldn't hear you. Oh, that's right." He waved his wand in a direction to Harry's right, and Sera spoke. "Why don't you go fuck yourself!" she spit.

Relief flooded through Harry, making his legs feel weak, and he dropped to one knee. She was alive! Harry could not see her from his vantage point, so he began to move noiselessly toward the direction her voice had come from.

The figure by the fire chuckled at Sera's response. "Now why would I do that when I've got you to entertain me?" He waved his wand in Sera's direction again.

At this insinuation, Harry raised his wand, ready to dispatch this creep right now, but the voice kept talking. "Reggie should be here soon. Maybe while we're waiting for him, you and I can have a little more fun. We'll have to hurry, though." The figure raised his arm to his face, presumably to look at his watch. "Reggie should have been here by now."

Harry had worked his way to where he could now see Sera. She was lying on the ground, her back to him, but he could see that she was bound around the feet. Presumably, her hands were tied as well, and he suspected she'd been magically gagged because she wasn't talking back to this jerk.

The thought of another about to join them worried Harry. Where was this Reggie? And how long did Harry have before he showed up?

Harry moved closer to Sera, waited until the figure by the fire had turned his back on them, then pointed his wand at Sera's feet and untied the rope that bound them. Sera jumped in surprise, then rolled over quietly until she was facing Harry. Her eyes widened in surprise, then began to water in gratitude as she choked out a sob around the gag in her mouth.

"It's okay," he mouthed at her with an encouraging smile. "I'm going to untie your hands. Stay still."

When Sera nodded her understanding, Harry untied her hands. Though she wanted to keep looking at Harry, Sera rolled back toward the fire, keeping her hands and feet together as though they were still tied. _Good girl_, Harry thought.

"So what do you think?" the figure by the fire asked. "Do we have time for one more quickie?"

Harry jumped to his feet, anger pounding through him and obliterating any thought of formulating a reasonable plan to get Sera out of here, shooting red sparks into the air as he did so. He then brought his wand down to point at the man, and before he could even turn halfway around in response to the noise and the sparks, Harry roared, "Incarcerous!" Chains leapt from Harry's wand and bound the unknown assailant tightly. He toppled over, narrowly missing the fire.

Just as Harry was about to go to Sera, a voice from behind him said, "Don't move, Potter. You're worth more to me alive than dead, but don't think I won't kill you just the same." Harry tensed, but obeyed, frozen for a moment. As the man behind him began to incant what sounded like a curse, Harry instinctively dove to his right and felt the curse strike him in the foot, knocking his shoe clean off. Harry hoped his foot wasn't still inside it, but he spared no time worrying about that. He had to get to Sera. Another dive brought him to the ground beside her, and he threw his body over hers, covering her completely to protect her, but leaving himself totally exposed.

Harry tensed, waiting for the worst, wondering if he could twist around to get his wand into a defensive position without leaving Sera unprotected, but Reggie seemed to think he had Harry right where he wanted him and was in no hurry to do anything.

"You made this too easy, Potter," he said. "We thought we were going to have to come up with an elaborate plan to get you to come after your girlfriend. But here you are already. I suppose I should thank you for that. Now, what to do with the two of you? The girl is a liability at this point, now that I have you. She'll be easy enough to dispose of. But you – what should I do with you?"

Before Reggie could do anything, Harry heard the sound of someone, who could only be Dobby, apparating nearby. "You will not hurt Harry Potter!" he heard the house elf growl, and then Dobby sent Reggie flying backward, where he landed unconscious on the ground.

Harry looked up cautiously to make sure all threats had been neutralized before rolling off of Sera, who was, he only now realized, struggling mightily beneath him.

"Sera!" he said. "It's okay now! It's me!"

Harry removed the gag from Sera's mouth, and she coughed and spit as she sat up. Dizziness immediately overcame her, and she slumped into Harry, who gently lay her back down.

Harry immediately noticed a large gash over Sera's left eye which had bled copiously in the past but was only trickling blood now. "Are you hurt anywhere else, Sera?"

"No. I want to go home," she muttered. "Please, Harry. Just take me home."

"In a minute," he said soothingly. "The others will be here soon."

"No!" Sera cried, desperate. "No others! Just you! Take me home!"

But it was too late. The others had begun to arrive, Professor McGonagall first, followed by Dumbledore, then Snape. As Snape dropped to his knees beside his niece, she began to cry, curling into a ball. Dumbledore went to the man beside the fire as Ron and Slughorn dealt with Reggie.

"Is she injured?" Snape asked Harry.

"I don't know. I just got here myself. She's got a pretty bad cut on her forehead, but other than that, I just don't know."

"Sera," Snape said, reaching out to touch her shoulder. Sera reacted to his touch by jerking away from him, then curling up tighter and letting out a low wail.

"Sera, please," Snape coaxed. "I need to know what's wrong. We need to get you to the hospital."

"No!" Sera moaned.

"Please, Professor," Harry said. "Let me. Give me some room." Harry was beginning to have a very bad feeling about what had happened to Sera, based on the unknown man's comments and the way Sera was acting now.

Snape backed away reluctantly and signaled for the others to back away as well.

Harry ignored all of the activity and the talking that was going on behind him and knelt beside Sera, close but not touching her. "Sera?" he said quietly. "It's okay, Sweetheart. It's just you and me now. I sent the others back. We can stay here as long as you need to, but it's cold here, and I'd like to get you somewhere warm."

Sera _was _cold. The ground beneath her was damp, which had soaked through into her clothes. She was shivering and her teeth had begun to chatter through her sobs. Still she did not want to get up. Getting up meant explaining what had happened to her, and she wasn't ready for that. She'd _never _be ready for that.

When she didn't speak, Harry removed his robe. "Sera, I'm going to cover you with my robe, okay?" When she didn't say no, Harry leaned over and draped his robe over her. "I can do a warming spell on the ground if you like," he offered.

"No," she said immediately. "No magic."

"Okay," Harry agreed. "No magic." He reached over to draw the robe up to her shoulder, and she caught his hand and held it.

"Harry, I . . ." She seemed unable to continue.

"It's okay," Harry assured her. "You don't have to talk now. We'll just sit here, and when you're ready, we'll go. Take all the time you need."

Harry sat back and watched as the others bundled up the prisoners and began shepherding them up to the castle. Harry dearly wanted to know who they were and what they had planned to do with Sera, but right now, his place was here. After a few moments, only Dobby, Snape, Dumbledore and Hermione remained. Harry gave them a rather apologetic smile and shrug, hoping they understood the need for taking this slowly.

Harry's robe had warmed Sera considerably, but the ground was still cold. Clinging tightly to Harry's hand, she finally said, "Can we go now?"

Relief washed through Harry. "Of course we can. Can you stand on your own?"

"Yes," Sera said. Harry stood up and nearly fell back to the ground when pain seared through his foot. He'd forgotten about the curse that had hit him earlier.

"You're hurt!" Sera cried out.

"It's nothing," he assured her. He balanced on one foot, waiting for her to rise, ready to lend a hand if she needed it. When they were both standing, the others approached slowly.

"The hospital wing for both of you," Dumbledore said firmly.

"No, I . . ." Sera started to say, but Harry chose that moment to stumble, apparently because of his injured foot, and Sera reached out instinctively to catch him. He smiled gratefully at her, and she didn't let go of his arm. Truthfully, the foot didn't hurt that much – he'd been in considerably more pain many times. But he'd hoped that Sera would be concerned enough about him that she would forget her own fears and accompany him to the hospital. The ruse worked like a charm.

"Harry's hurt," Sera told them. "His foot. I'm fine, but Harry needs looking after."

"Dobby can take Harry Potter and Miss Sera to the hospital, sir," Dobby offered.

"No, thank you, Dobby. No magic," Harry said.

"Harry, you can't walk all the way back up to the castle on that foot," Hermione pointed out.

"No magic," Harry said firmly.

"It's all right, Harry," Sera said quietly. She could see the foot was painful to walk on. Besides, she wasn't sure she had the strength to walk that far either. "Thank you, Dobby. Please, can you take us both together?"

"Dobby would be honored," he said with a low bow. He took both of them by the hand, and the three of them disappeared with a crack, leaving the others to walk quickly back through the forest in the dark.

##########

Sera had been cleaned up and changed into a hospital gown before anyone else arrived. Harry had waited outside at Sera's request while Madam Pomfrey examined Sera. The edges of the cut on her forehead had been knitted back together, and she now sported several ghastly stitch-like slashes on her forehead. Madam Pomfrey had tut-tutted over the cut while gently rubbing Dittany over it, worried that they were too late in applying the ointment to prevent scarring.

Sera was suffering from a pretty severe headache, but other than that and the cut, her physical injuries were confined to some minor scrapes and bruises from her trip through the forest and some lingering all-over soreness resulting from the curses she'd been subjected to. She'd told Madam Pomfrey almost everything that had happened to her during her ordeal.

Harry met the concerned crowd of searchers in the hallway outside the hospital wing, thanked them all profusely, and sent them away with assurances that Sera would be fine. Only Snape and Dumbledore remained with Harry when Madam Pomfrey allowed visitors to enter, with an admonition that the patient needed to rest. After briefly examining Harry's foot, Madam Pomfrey spelled it to immediate relief, then left them alone.

Harry sat on the bed beside Sera, holding the hand she had offered to him. "Can you tell us what happened," he asked.

"May I have a drink of water?" she asked, stalling.

Harry took the cup from the bedside table and handed it to her. Sera acutely felt the eyes on her as she took a small sip, then handed the cup back to Harry. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," he assured her. "Who took you into the forest?"

"I don't know. It was dinnertime. I heard a noise out in the hallway. At first, I ignored it, but it didn't go away. I went to the door and listened, and it sounded like someone was calling for help. So I opened the door. Before I could see anyone, I suddenly went all stiff, and I couldn't move. It was like someone had frozen me."

"That was a petrificus curse," Dumbledore told her.

Sera nodded. "I thought I heard him say something like that. I couldn't move at all. He picked me up and carried me out of the castle and then dragged me into the forest. I wanted to fight or scream or something, but I couldn't move. There was no one else around. I guess they were all in the Great Hall."

"He chose his time wisely," Harry noted. "Did you see his face?" He squeezed her hand tightly for support.

"Not then. When we got into the forest, he took the curse off and I could move again. I tried to run away, but then he . . ." She stopped, unable to continue, tears leaking from both her eyes.

Harry leaned in close and spoke so that only she could hear. "Do you want me to ask everyone to leave?" Maybe this would be easier without such a large audience.

She shook her head. "It's not what you think," she whispered. At least, not yet.

Harry sat back, wanting to feel relief, but not sure he believed her. "What did he do to you, Sweetheart?" Harry pressed.

Sera studied her hands as they twisted the clean white sheet. "He used another curse. This one sounded like 'crucial'. And I hurt all over, like my bones were on fire, like I was going to die." She looked up at Harry and said sincerely, "I wanted to die."

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged stunned expressions. Whoever they were, they'd used the cruciatus curse on her? Who, exactly, were they dealing with here?

"And then he stopped. I had fallen to the ground when he . . . I must have hit my head on a rock or something, because I noticed I had this," she said, gesturing to the cut on her forehead. "He told me if I tried to run again, that he'd use that curse again. And I didn't want him to, so I just stayed on the ground. I'm sorry, Harry!" She was sobbing now, ashamed of herself for not being stronger, ashamed of herself for letting him . . .

"You don't have anything to be sorry about. You were very brave." He kissed her forehead gently, trying to pretend he didn't notice when she flinched away. "What happened then?"

"He said that I was a Muggle, and I was getting what Muggles deserved. He said he was going to go for a while, to contact a friend. He said his friend was going to take me to Voldemort." Snape audibly gasped at this, and Harry looked sternly around at him in silent rebuke. "He said that once Voldemort was finished letting his Death Eaters . . . play with me that I was going to get you for them. And that if I didn't, they would kill me. Then he tied me up. There were like ropes that came shooting out of the end of his wand, and they wrapped around my arms and legs. And he gagged me. Then he left, and I just lay there. I'm sorry I didn't get up and try to find my way out. I was just so scared!"

"Shush," Harry soothed her. "You did just fine. You stayed put, and we found you. There's loads of things in the forest that might have eaten you if you'd wandered around in there. You did just right."

Snape approached from the shadows and sat on the bed beside Sera. "We caught them, Sera. We caught them both. And they will pay, my dear. You have my word on that."

Sera wasn't sure how she felt about this. If he talked, if he told them everything . . .

"Was he a student?" Harry asked.

Snape nodded. "One of them was."

"Slytherin?"

Again, Snape nodded. Harry stared at Snape accusingly, as though he was somehow personally responsible for the actions of every member of his house.

"And this Reggie?" Harry continued.

"Former student," Dumbledore offered.

"They'll be interrogated?" Harry asked. "You'll find out exactly what their plan was?"

"Yes," Dumbledore assured him.

"Will they be turned over to the Ministry?"

"That will depend on what we learn when we question them," Dumbledore said. "Have you told us everything, Miss Mallory?"

Sera hesitated a moment too long for anyone to believe her when she said, "Yes. He was waiting for this Reggie guy. But then Harry showed up. You know what happened from there," she said to Harry.

Harry explained how Fang had found Sera; how he'd dealt with the still unknown, to him, Slytherin; how Reggie had surprised him from behind; and how Dobby had saved them both. Dumbledore confessed that he'd been concerned enough about Harry wandering around in the forest alone that he'd sent Dobby to follow him from a discrete distance.

"Well, I have some people to talk to," Dumbledore said, rising to his feet. When Snape made to get up, Dumbledore put up a hand to stop him. "Severus, you should stay here. You are too close to be objective."

"Objective?" Snape growled, his lip curled in a sneer. "You want objective?"

"Professor McGonagall will assist me. You tend to your niece. Miss Mallory, I am so very pleased that you have been returned to us. Get some rest now, my dear, and leave everything to me."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Sera said gratefully.

With a smile and a wave, Dumbledore left. Snape stared at the closed door for several seconds before he said, "Serafina, would you like me to stay here with you tonight?"

Sera looked at Harry, and he nodded. "Thank you, Uncle, but Harry will stay. I'm sorry about all this. I was stupid."

Snape picked up her hand and pressed it to his lips. "No, you were trying to help. That is not stupid. Get some sleep, pet. I'll look in on you in the morning."

"Would you mind feeding Lenni? Poor thing must be starved!"

"I'll take care of it. Good night." Snape stood, nodded at Harry, then he left as well.

They were alone now. It hadn't escaped Harry's notice that Sera had not told them what had happened when her abductor returned to her after notifying his accomplice, and he wondered if he should press her to tell him what happened between that time and the time that Harry found them. He was sure she was withholding something. His uncertainty over whether he actually wanted to hear it held him back, which twinged his conscience just a bit with the thought that he was being selfish. He reasoned with himself that there would be time tomorrow to delve into that unpleasantness. Maybe she could get some sleep if she didn't have to rehash it tonight – he'd let her keep her secrets for a while longer.

"Is there anything I can get for you?" Harry asked. "I can ask Madam Pomfrey to give you something to help you sleep if you want."

"No, thank you."

Harry sat quietly on the bed for a moment, the emotion inside him fighting for release. "I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you," he finally said, trying not to fall completely apart. "I was so afraid that I'd never see you again. My whole world just stopped."

"It's okay," Sera whispered. "I'm sorry I wasn't more brave. That curse was just so . . ."

"I know. Remember, I told you Voldemort used it on me in the graveyard? I know exactly what it feels like, and you _were _brave, Sera. Now try to get some sleep. I'll be right here with you if you need anything."

"Will you . . . will you lay here with me?" she asked.

Harry was surprised by her request. "Of course I will."

Sera moved over so that Harry could join her on the bed. He kissed her forehead tenderly and drew the blanket up to cover them both. She closed her eyes, secure in Harry's presence, and was soon sound asleep, worn out from her ordeal. Harry lay for a time, watching her, thinking how close he'd come to losing her today, until he, too, finally fell asleep.

##########

Harry's night was anything but restful, and finally, he got off the bed, fearful of waking Sera, and slept in a nearby chair. Or rather, he tried to sleep. Every time he dropped off, his mind went into overdrive, conjuring up one nightmare scenario after another, all involving Sera coming to harm in some horrific way, all of those ways being somehow his fault. In one of them, he even killed her directly himself. The last nightmare woke him at four, and he didn't even try to get back to sleep after that. Instead, he sat in the chair in the growing light, watching Sera, thinking, and coming to difficult conclusions.

Very early in the morning, Dumbledore and Snape returned. Harry rubbed his tired eyes, and they retired to the hallway so they wouldn't wake a still-sleeping Sera.

"Who is he?" Harry demanded.

"Harry, I must ask for your restraint," Dumbledore said. "This is what we discovered. A student here at Hogwarts, hoping to increase his family's prominence within Voldemort's circle, decided to kidnap the lady friend of Harry Potter and deliver her to his master to use as bait in a trap to catch the one he really wants. Of course, that is you, dear boy. This student managed to pull off the abduction of Miss Mallory, on his own. He stashed her in the forest while he went to contact his older half-brother, Reggie. Reggie was to meet his younger brother, take possession of Miss Mallory, and deliver her to Voldemort. We can only imagine how Voldemort might have used her to get to you, Harry."

Harry's anger at these people had grown exponentially as Dumbledore calmly told this story. "Who is he?" he repeated through clenched teeth.

"That is irrelevant."

The shock Harry felt at this announcement showed plainly on his face. "Irrelevant?" he spit out. "How could that be irrelevant?"

"Imagine this scenario, Harry," Dumbledore instructed, still in that maddeningly calm manner. "This student is identified and expelled from Hogwarts for what he has done. We must provide an explanation to his parents for the reason for his expulsion. Perhaps criminal charges are pressed against him, and he stands trial. He is now free to tell the world about this weakness he has discovered in Harry Potter's defenses."

"Do you think I care about that right now?" Harry demanded.

"No, I can see that you do not. And that is precisely why I must."

"So what _are _you going to do to him?" Harry angrily asked.

"His memory has already been altered. He no longer remembers Serafina Mallory, nor does he remember that he abducted anyone and took them into the forest. The brother's memory has been likewise modified. We have convinced ourselves that the plan had gone no further than the two brothers."

"So that's it?! He gets no punishment!" Harry asked, unable to keep his anger from escaping at the closest targets. "You're satisfied with this?" he asked Snape.

"In a few days, this student will be discovered cheating on an exam. He will be expelled for that," Snape explained, without really answering Harry's question. He, too, would have liked a more . . . immediate and painful punishment for the young men.

"Expelled for cheating?" Harry repeated, incredulous. "So no one ever knows what he did to Sera? Where's the justice in that for her?!"

"You're operating on emotion, Harry," Dumbledore pointed out. "Use your head, not your finely-honed sense of revenge. If he leaves here knowing about Sera, the danger to her and to you remains. This way, the end result will be the same. The student will no longer be at Hogwarts." And by the time Harry learned his name, he'd be long gone from the school.

This did not sit well with Harry. He was sure this unnamed person had done something much worse to Sera than abduct her and threaten and torture her, bad as those things were, and the fact that this might be unavenged was difficult to swallow. Should he tell them what he strongly suspected? Would it make any difference to them, especially if the perpetrators' memories had already been modified? Did they already know from their interrogations?

Harry sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "Did he tell you everything that happened while they were in the forest?"

"What do you mean?" Snape asked.

"I think . . . I get the feeling Sera's holding something back. I don't think she's telling us everything that happened."

Dumbledore looked slightly discomfitted by this news. "I did not see any reason to question him closely about what happened between the time he abducted her and the time you arrived to rescue her." And it was too late to do so now.

"Did you press her with your concerns?" Snape asked.

"No," Harry admitted. "I thought she'd been through enough. If she didn't want to talk about it, I thought I'd give her some space, at least for a little while."

Dumbledore appeared to think this over. "Since we have no hard evidence to support your suspicions, I don't see what else we can do. In any event, the memory charms have already been performed. This matter is now closed. However, if Miss Mallory is hiding something that happened in the forest, you must convince her to talk about it, Harry, for her own peace of mind, yes?"

Harry nodded in agreement, still not pleased with the lack of recourse he was being given. "I should probably get back inside. I don't want Sera waking up alone."

"Oh, one more thing, Harry. Professor Snape and I will be meeting with every member of Slytherin House over the next day or so. Ostensibly, we will be questioning them about an allegation of cheating, which allegation will claim one victim next week. In actuality, we will be performing memory charms on all of them so that they forget Miss Mallory exists. They will also be confunded so that if they learn of this fact again while they are here, this knowledge will not remain in their heads, but will simply disappear into the ether." Dumbledore made a fluttering motion with his hands, like a bird flying away. "We will confine this action to Slytherin House for now, unless we have reason to believe it necessary for the rest of the houses."

Harry still didn't like it. It wasn't nearly enough. But he said, "Thank you, sir," trying to sound like he meant it, and went back inside to wait for Sera to wake up.

As soon as the door had closed, Snape rounded on Dumbledore. "You need to get him out of here sooner rather than later. If that . . . touched my niece, I will kill him myself," he promised.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

20 _Sacrifice_

Sera was released from the hospital the following day, and Harry was there to walk her back to her rooms. He got her settled comfortably on the couch, a blanket covering her legs. "Is there anything I can get for you?" he offered.

"I'm not sick, Harry. You don't have to wait on me. Why don't you sit down?"

"Okay," he said, and he sat in the chair beside the sofa, wondering how to start the conversation they needed to have.

"Over here," she corrected, patting the sofa.

Harry got up and sat beside her. Sera scooted down so that she could rest her head in his lap, and he repositioned the blanket so it was covering her once again. "Ah! That's better," she said with a happy sigh, closing her eyes. "Do you want the TV on?"

When Harry didn't respond, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. He looked as though he was a million miles away. "Penny for your thoughts," she offered.

"Hmmm?" he asked. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Well, I offered you a penny for your thoughts, but it looks as though they're worth at least a quarter."

"A quarter?"

"Forget it. You're awfully quiet. Is something wrong?"

"We need to talk."

"About what?" Sera asked, as if she didn't know.

"I think there's something you're not telling me. I think something else happened to you in the forest, something you don't want to talk about."

Sera knew she had to be convincing if she was going to get him to drop this. "Something like what?"

"I don't know, Sera. You tell me."

"There's nothing to tell," she assured him, forcing herself to stare straight into his troubled green eyes, projecting sincerity.

"Sera, if he did something to you . . . it's not your fault. You don't have anything to be ashamed of."

"You think he . . ." Sera asked, pretending shock and surprise about what he was suggesting. "If he'd done anything like that, I would have told you. I would have told Uncle. Don't you think I'd want him to pay?"

She was very convincing, and Harry halfway believed her. She sat up. "And do you think that if he had done what you're suggesting that I'd want to do this to you now?" She leaned in and kissed him, the invitation for more to follow clear. This part was very important, and Sera put all she had into convincing him that she wanted this – that she wanted _him _– now.

When Sera started to unbutton his shirt, he stopped her. "Don't," he said. "I have to go to class soon." He looked down at her, still not totally convinced. "Are you sure you're telling me everything?"

"Yes," she lied.

"Good!" he said with a huge sigh of relief. "I was so worried . . ."

It had worked. She'd convinced him that nothing else had happened in the forest. She just couldn't admit to anyone what had happened, not again. She'd survived this once – she'd get through it again. On her own. But now she had to get him into the bedroom. This was crucial. If she got pregnant now, she had to know there was at least a chance it was Harry's baby.

But Harry was now wrestling with something else that had been eating away at him since the nightmare-filled night he'd spent following Sera's rescue. Now that she'd put his mind at ease about what had not happened in the forest, there was something else he had to do, which he wouldn't have been able to do if she was fighting the demons surely released by a sexual assault.

Sera kissed him again, and he pushed her away. "Please," he said.

"Is something wrong? Something _else_?" She slid back down to rest her head in his lap again, looking up at him with her dark eyes.

He fidgeted with the fringe on the edge of the blanket while she continued to stare at him, suspecting that she knew what this new problem was, wondering if she'd created a bigger problem by holding onto her shame.

"Harry . . ."

"Sera, I could have lost you," he said, interrupting her with his need to get this out.

"But you didn't. I'm fine."

"_This _time! When I discovered you were missing, and when I found you in the forest . . . If I'd been just a few minutes later . . . you would have . . . I would have been too late, and you would have . . . and it would have been my fault! Again!"

"But the ones who did this have been taken care of. It's okay now."

"But what if there are more who want to hurt you, because of me? I couldn't bear it, Sera. I simply couldn't bear it if something happened to you."

"You've made up your mind about something, haven't you?" There was a finality about the way he was speaking, like the decision had been made and only the difficult part of sharing it was left. This couldn't be happening.

"I have."

"Look at me," she ordered.

He looked down at her. In his eyes, she saw sadness and regret and, worse yet, resolve.

"Tell me," she said.

"I can't do this to you, Sera. I . . . love you too much to let someone hurt you because of me."

"No one's hurt me."

Harry traced the cut on her forehead gently with a finger. He pressed down on it, causing her to wince with pain. "Okay. You made your point," she said. "But does love have to be about sacrifice?"

Harry sighed. "It sure seems that way for me."

"But why are you the only one who gets to make the sacrifice? What if I tell you that _I'm _willing to take the risk being with you carries? Why can't _I_ make _that _sacrifice?"

"Because that's a sacrifice I can't let you make. You must live. I will not let you die for me! Too many people that I love have already died for me!"

"You're being overly dramatic."

"No, Sera, I'm not! My parents are dead because they tried to protect me from Voldemort! Cedric Diggory is dead because he got between Voldemort and me! My godfather is dead because he came to help me after I was too stupid to realize I was being used. And look what happened to you – what could have happened to you! And as bad as Cedric's death was, and as much as it hurt to lose Sirius, they can't compare to how I would feel if I lost you! Can't you see that?"

Sera could. Everything he was feeling was right out there to see.

"But even _my _pain at losing you doesn't matter, don't you see?" he continued. "Because you'd be _dead_, Sera! Dead! There's no coming back from dead! You'd be gone. No more Sera! A world without Sera is not one I want to live in."

She could see just how serious he was about this, and she began to be afraid that she wouldn't be able to talk him out of it. "What if I just went away for a while?" she suggested quietly.

"Where would you go?" he pointed out. "This is your home. Your uncle is here. You belong here just as much as I do. Listen . . . No, Sera, listen!" he insisted when she started to interrupt. "This doesn't have to be the end of us forever. Some day, Voldemort will be defeated, and life will get back to normal, and we can be together again."

"Some day?" Sera repeated bitterly. "When will that be, Harry? Next year? Five years? Ten?"

"I don't know," he admitted.

Sera sat up quickly, then wished she hadn't as her brain felt as though it were floundering on six-foot waves inside her skull. She ignored it and pressed her point. "So what happens in the meantime? Do I just sit here alone, missing you, wondering where you are, if you're off doing something dangerous, or getting yourself killed? Or falling in love with someone else?"

"Don't say that," he said earnestly, his eyes on hers. "I won't . . . I don't want to fall in love with anyone else. But I don't want to love you to your death either. We can still be friends, Sera. I don't think I can give you up completely. We just can't be . . . more. We can't be what we are now."

"And there's nothing I can say that will change your mind?"

He shook his head in the negative. This was what was best for her, and as painful as it was to him, it was something he had to do.

She lay her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes. Her head hurt so much, but that pain was nothing compared to the pain that had begun in her chest at his words. How was she supposed to just stop loving him? Did he realize what he was asking her to do? He might as well ask her to cut out her heart and hand it to him. There had to be a way to change his mind, and a plan began to form in her mind. "Can I ask you for one thing?"

"Anything."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "I want one more night with you. Just you and me. Here. To say good-bye to us."

Harry thought about her request. It wasn't unreasonable, he supposed. It would be difficult, knowing it was to be the last time, but he owed her this, at least. He was a little surprised – he'd expected her to put up more of a fight than this. "Okay," he agreed. "Tonight?"

"No," Sera said, her mind spinning. "Tomorrow night. I want to make a nice dinner, and I'll need time to get things ready. Tomorrow night would be better."

"Tomorrow night, then," Harry said, and he stood up. "I've got to get going. Charms. Good-bye, Sera."

"No, Harry. Not good-bye. Not yet. I'll see you tomorrow. Five o'clock."

###########

"Why do you look so miserable?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry's shoulders slumped, and he leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "I've just been talking with Sera."

"She is doing well, I hope. Madam Pomfrey told me that she had been released from hospital."

"Yes, sir. She's feeling fine. I've just told her that I can't . . . that we can't . . . continue to see each other, except as friends. Recent events have made me realize that you were right. She's in danger, and I simply can't allow her to be hurt or . . . worse because of me. Maybe it's too late, but I have to stop this while there's still a chance of saving her."

Dumbledore looked over his glasses at the young man's pain. "That's a very mature decision, Harry. Have you questioned Miss Mallory about what happened in the forest?"

"I have. She denies that she's hiding anything."

"And do you believe her?"

"I do," Harry said. "If I didn't, I never would have . . . I couldn't have broken up with her if I'd thought . . . It would have been abandoning her at exactly the wrong moment."

Dumbledore nodded his understanding. "The wrongdoers have been caught, this time. It appears that you and she are safe for the foreseeable future."

"That doesn't really change the state of the world, does it, sir?" Harry pointed out dejectedly, looking down at his shoelaces.

"No, Harry, it most certainly does not. How is Miss Mallory taking your decision?"

"Well, she didn't hit me or throw me out, so better than I thought. I told her I'd like to remain friends. Do you think that would be all right?" he asked, raising his eyes hopefully to Dumbeldore's.

"I think that's possible if you can somehow control your feelings for her so that they _are _only friendship. Because if it's more than that, it's going to be obvious no matter what you say."

Harry nodded his understanding. "I told her that maybe when this was all over, some day, we could be together again. I don't know if she'll be willing to wait for me. She's amazing, and any bloke that meets her will know that, and she may . . . find someone else in the meantime."

Dumbledore could now tell that Harry's heart wasn't really in this separation, and he wasn't convinced it would be enough. If Harry was holding out hope for a "some day" with Miss Mallory, and had voiced those hopes to her, then he hadn't truly stopped loving her, nor she him, and no amount of saying it, to others or to themselves, was going to make it true. But he didn't tell Harry that, and he didn't offer any advice, because Harry wasn't asking him for that. Harry needed confirmation that he was making the right choice, and Dumbledore gave him that willingly. "You're doing the right thing for today, Harry, for Miss Mallory. That is the important thing."

Harry nodded and cleared his throat. "She's asked me for one more night. I haven't read all of the school rules," he said. In fact, if he was totally honest, he hadn't read _any _of the school rules. "But I suspect I'll be violating at least one of them when I stay with her tomorrow night." Unsaid between them was the fact that he'd already violated this same rule several times without seeking permission first. "But I couldn't say no." Though he probably should have been embarrassed by the admission that he'd be spending the night with Sera, Harry found he had no trouble meeting Dumbledore's eye.

The older man nodded, giving his tacit approval for this rule-breaking. Harry stood up and made his good-byes, and Dumbledore watched him go, shaking his head sadly. This could not end as Harry was hoping, not with the current state of his heart and head.

##########

"Have you got a minute?" Sera asked Snape from across the hall.

"Of course," Snape said. "Wait there. I'll be right over."

When Snape entered her living room, he asked, "Why didn't you ring the bell?"

"I didn't want you to think it was an emergency."

"Well, you shouldn't be opening your door. Not now."

Sera sighed and sat down. "You caught the guy," she pointed out.

Snape sat as well. "That is true. His memory has been altered so that he has no recollection of the incident or of you. We've also seen to it that everyone in my house," he'd never said those words so distastefully, "has not and will not have any memory of you." Snape studied her face carefully. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes. Well, you probably won't think so. Harry came to see me earlier today. My little mishap in the forest has made him reconsider your and Dumbledore's idea that us being together isn't such a good idea."

"Your 'little mishap'?" Snape repeated, incredulous. "Sera, you could have been killed!"

Sera sighed again. "Yes, that was Harry's point, too."

"Though it pains me to admit it, he's quite right. So he's decided that . . ."

"Yes, he's breaking up with me. Wants to be just friends. Happy?" she asked bitterly.

He was, actually, but he could tell by his niece's face that he shouldn't confess to that particular emotion right now. "I'm sorry that it causes you pain," he said honestly. "But I'm not sorry that he's arrived at this decision. I've thought it was for the best all along."

"That's because you don't like him."

"That's not true." At her snort of disbelief, he corrected himself. "Okay, it _is _true. But it's not the only reason. I explained my reasons to you before. They have not changed. In fact, they've become more pronounced since your 'little mishap in the forest.'"

"Well, it's done, anyway. I have one favor to ask of you."

"Name it."

"Be careful – you might be sorry. Can you take me into London tomorrow?"

"London?" Snape repeated. "What for?"

"I have some shopping I need to do. I have asked Harry for one last night, before we say good-bye. He'll be staying here with me tomorrow night, just so you know. I want to make him dinner, and there are some things I need to pick up."

Snape fidgeted uncomfortably at the thought of Potter spending the night here with his niece, the thought still filling him with disgust, but he didn't say anything. If this was what she needed to do to break her ties with the boy, he'd tolerate it. But he wasn't sure going into London was such a good idea. "Couldn't you just make me a list?"

"There are some things that I need that may make you uncomfortable," she told him. "Would you like me to tell you what they are?"

"No!" he said quickly. "I'll take you into the city. We'll walk into Hogsmeade, and I can apparate us to the Leaky Cauldron. Will apparating bother you?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I've never done it when I wasn't pregnant. But even if it does, it'll be worth it. What time can we leave?"

"My first class ends at ten. Will that give you enough time?"

"Should be plenty," she assured him. "Thank you, Uncle Severus."

"Sera, if there's anything . . ." Snape stopped, unsure how to wade into these waters and whether his interference would be welcomed or thrown back into his face. "If something happened in the forest, you should talk about it. You should tell someone. You can talk to me, or – or if you'd rather have another woman to talk to, I'm sure I can find someone . . ."

"Not you, too!" Sera complained.

"Look at me," Snape commanded gently.

"No!" Sera said, determinedly looking down at her hands. "Don't even think about doing that mind reading thing on me!"

"If you're not hiding anything, what do you have to fear?" he pressed quietly.

"I just . . . can't."

"Look at me. I promise, I won't look into your mind."

When Sera looked up at him, relying on his promise, the fact that she trusted him enough to do so twisted Snape's insides. He had to help her through this. But she had to tell him.

"When we first met, all those months ago," he started. "I didn't know you, and I . . . Do you remember the discussion we had about why you had been expelled from school?"

"I wasn't expelled," she said, though that was hardly relevant now.

"Suspended, then. Do you remember that conversation?"

She nodded, and he continued. "I was feeling a little over my head. Here was this teenaged girl that was suddenly my responsibility. As many teenaged girls as I've known over the past several years, I've never actually talked to one. I've talked _at _them plenty of times, and a few have even talked back _at _me, but an actual conversation . . . Well, that hadn't ever happened, and I wasn't sure I knew how to do it. But I wanted to understand you, so I . . . used Legillimency on you then. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have done it."

Sera thought back more intently on that conversation now. What had she been thinking about then? They'd talked about why she'd been suspended, and the feelings she'd had then about Mr. Markham came back to her now, as had the reason his touching her had been so unwelcome. Tears sprang to her eyes as she realized what it was her uncle was telling her he'd seen. "You know?" she whispered.

"I know what happened to you when you were a child. I . . . saw it – in your mind. I immediately regretted prying, of course. I'm so very sorry, Sera, that my sister . . . left you unprotected. Please tell me that what I witnessed was a singular event and not a pattern of abuse," he begged her.

"It was just the one time," she assured him truthfully, tears streaming down her face. She badly wanted to look away, her shame threatening to overwhelm her, but warring with that feeling was the need to tell someone, finally, what had happened all those years ago.

"I can only assume that you never received any type of assistance in dealing with that event," Snape continued.

Sera nodded in confirmation. "My mother was too desperate for a fix to really known what she was doing at the time. And then she was too high to care afterward. I think she just put it out of her mind. And I wasn't going to bring it up and remind her that she had a source of payment for her habit so close at hand."

Snape closed his eyes in disgust at his sister, in despair over what this child had gone through, and in guilt over not being there for her when she so obviously desperately needed someone to protect her from her mother's lifestyle. The heart he wasn't sure on many occasions he'd had beat painfully in his chest now.

"Why didn't you tell someone what was happening?" Snape asked, despair for her lost childhood forcing his voice into a whisper.

"There was no one to help," she said simply, and the certainty with which she said this tore something loose inside him, and his eyes filled with tears. That this child, that _any _child, should live in such desperate circumstances and to be so sure that no one cared enough to help . . .

Snape reached out a hand to her, but stopped before he touched her. They weren't done here yet. It was too late to change what had already happened, but it wasn't too late to help her now.

"I won't let you go through this alone now, Sera. I am here for you, in whatever way you need me to be. But you have to tell me. I cannot help you – no one can – if you're not willing to admit what happened."

Having an adult offering to shoulder her burdens was unfamiliar to Sera, and for a time, she simply stared at him through watery eyes, unable to believe that he could help, that he actually wanted to help. "He . . . after he got me into the forest, he left me tied up while he went to talk to someone else. When he came back, he started the fire." She couldn't look at her uncle now as she recounted this horror. "He untied me, and then he . . . he forced himself on me. I was trying to fight back, and then he used that curse on me, several times, and after that, I couldn't . . . I just let him. I should have . . ."

Snape dropped to one knee beside Sera, startling her just a little and forcing her to look him in the eyes again. "This was _not _your fault," he whispered fiercely. "Do not think for one minute that you could have stopped him, or that if you'd only been braver or stronger, it would have made any difference."

"I should have done something!" she wailed.

"You did, Sera. You survived. Would it be all right if I hugged you?" he asked, needing desperately to hold her and comfort her, yet not wanting to touch her without her permission.

Sobbing, Sera nodded, and he pulled her into his embrace and held her tightly while she cried. When she was finally exhausted, he pushed her away but held onto her arms. "We're going to get you someone to talk to about this, someone who can help you. Because as much as I want to help you, and as much as I'm willing to listen to whatever you want to tell me . . . If I thought I was in over my head just trying to have a normal conversation with you, this is completely out of my depth. Will you talk to someone qualified to assist you with this?"

Sera nodded, and he pulled her to his chest once more. "Thank you," he said gratefully.

After a moment, she pulled away from him.

"Did you tell Potter?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I probably should have, because as soon as I convinced him that nothing happened, he broke up with me. I think if he'd known . . ."

"Do you plan on telling him now?" he asked, hoping that she was not. Because knowing Potter as he did, he'd do the honorable thing and stick by Sera. And as much as he might begrudgingly respect that sense of honor, Potter had finally done the right thing and distanced himself from Sera, and he didn't want anything to change that.

Sera sighed sadly. "Probably not. I don't want him thinking that I'm making it up just to keep him."

Snape doubted Potter would think that, but he didn't say so. "In light of what has happened, do you think spending the night with Potter," he said this distastefully, "is the best thing for you right now?"

Sera still had her reasons for this, tangled as they might be, and she was _not_ going to share _them_ with her uncle. "Yes," she said simply.

##########

Harry knocked on Sera's door promptly at five the following day, surprisingly nervous about what he was facing tonight. He felt sure that Sera had some sort of test of his resolve planned, and he'd been giving himself a pep talk for the last hour, reminding himself why he was doing this, that it was the right thing, the _only _thing, he could do.

When she opened the door, his breath caught in his throat. Sera was wearing a dress! He'd never seen her in a dress, didn't even know she owned one. But she sure owned this one. It was deep blue in color, clinging in all the right places, and made of a satiny looking material that just cried out to be stroked. She wasn't wearing shoes, which should have ruined the whole effect but somehow just made it all the more sexy. She wore her silky hair down.

"Wow," he said. "Look at you."

She twirled around, causing the skirt to rise around her, like a ballerina. "Do you like it?"

Harry swallowed a hard knot of desire that had risen in his throat, threatening to choke him. This was the first test, and if he couldn't pass it, he was doomed. "I do," he said, and he was pleased to hear that his voice sounded steady despite the fact that his legs felt wobbly. "A lot. I feel bad, though. I didn't know I was supposed to dress up. I would have worn my dress robes."

"You're fine," she assured him, and he was. He was still wearing his house jumper and tie. He could have showed up in a burlap sack and Sera would have found him attractive.

"Something smells really good," he said, sniffing the air.

"Dinner should be ready in a few minutes."

"I meant you," Harry told her, and he finally allowed himself to take her into his arms and feel that wonderful garment she was wearing. It was just as smooth and silky as he'd known it would be, and he couldn't stop his hands from running up and down her back and down over her bottom. He immediately felt what was missing, and he stepped back away from her quickly.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"You're not wearing any underwear!" he blurted out.

Sera smiled at him. "Harry, just where exactly did you think we were going to end up at some point this evening? Don't act so surprised. Besides, panty lines would ruin the look, don't you think?"

She turned around so she could appraise the situation, and he gave her his honest opinion. "Yeah, they would have ruined it all right."

"Come on. Help me with dinner." She took his hand and led him back to the kitchen.

Okay, something smelled pretty good in here, too, and he told her so. She instructed him to prepare salad, so he set to work chopping vegetables. She noticed that he seemed to be keeping himself mostly away from her, as though afraid he might burst into flame if he touched her again. And as difficult as parts of this were for her now, she only had to look at Harry, and remember the wonderful times they'd shared, to put that other experience away, at least for tonight, and concentrate on the here and now. She took the knife from his hand and set it down. "Harry, you haven't kissed me yet."

"I haven't? Are you sure?" he asked, stalling.

"I'd remember," she assured him, taking a step closer to him.

Harry took a corresponding step back. "But back there, by the door, when I came in . . . I didn't kiss you then?"

She shook her head and closed the distance between them again.

Harry's next step back brought him up against the counter with nowhere left to run. "Oh, well then . . . I guess we'd better remedy that, huh?"

"Shut up," she said, and she stepped into his arms and kissed him. And he did burst into flames, just as he'd feared he would.

"Sera," he exhaled her name on one long hot breath. "Are you sure this is what you want? You deserve so much more than a one-night stand."

"Harry Potter, this isn't a one-night stand," she said sternly. "We've been together for months now. All I'm asking is that you forget that tomorrow, everything changes. Tonight, it's just you and me and what we have between us. Nothing more, nothing less. Can you do that?"

Mutely, he nodded, and this time, he kissed her. And _she _burst into flame.

She put her hands on his chest and pushed herself away from him, her heart racing. If they did this now, dinner would be ruined. "Finish the salad," she ordered. "One course at a time."

After they'd finished the salad course, Sera checked the oven. "We've got a few minutes. Dance with me, Harry."

Normally, he would have pointed out that he didn't dance and she knew it. But tonight wasn't normal, so he got to his feet without argument and pulled her into his arms. He held her close as they swayed to the soft music playing on the stereo. What they were doing wasn't really dancing, he thought, and if he pretended that tomorrow wasn't going to contain a rude awakening, he could get through this.

The timer on the oven sounded. "Dinner's ready," she announced to his neck.

"Yeah? So what?" he said, happy just to stay here with her like this for a while longer.

"No way, buster. I worked hard on this dinner, and you're gonna eat it!"

She broke loose from his grip and busied herself with putting supper on the table: baked haddock with seafood stuffing, vegetables steamed until they were tender crisp, then tossed in a light garlic butter sauce, long-grain rice, perfectly fluffed.

When everything was on the table, Sera lit two candles and extinguished all of the other lights. "Sit," she said, and Harry sat.

And they ate a very pleasant, enjoyable, delicious meal. They talked little, but it didn't seem to matter. When they were finished, Harry cleared the table while Sera excused herself to the bedroom.

Harry had finished loading the dishwasher when Sera returned. "I'm sorry. I didn't have time to make dessert. I hope this is okay."

He looked up at her, and his mouth fell open and began to water. She was standing in the doorway to her bedroom, dressed in a black lace halter babydoll which ended just below the matching undies he could see through the floral pattern in the lace. Her dark eyes were smouldering, welcoming, as she stared at him. "Damn!" he said. "I was hoping for apple pie."

"Well, I could make you one," she offered, coming closer. "But I haven't got any apples. Or cinnamon. Or flour to make the crust. I guess you're just going to have to settle for this," she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He sighed as though greatly put upon as his arms went around her waist, pulling her close. "The sacrifices I have to make," he said, then wished he hadn't, his statement calling him back to why he was here like this. "Sera, I didn't mean . . ."

"Shut up," she said again, reinforcing her point with a kiss.

"You are so rude," he murmured when she pulled away.

She tugged his sweater off over his head and tossed it on the floor, then pulled his shirt tails out of his jeans. She slowly, deliberately began to unbutton his shirt, kissing his chest as she moved down, until she had all of the buttons undone. She knelt on the floor and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans.

"You are a very naughty girl," he managed to say though he was having a difficult time breathing. "You should be careful. Santa's watching, you know."

Sera stood up. "I always knew that old guy was a pervert."

He nearly choked on his laughter as Sera pushed his pants down over his hips and down to the floor. She removed his shirt and slipped it on over her own skimpy attire. "You want to leave the tie on?" she asked. "I could use it as reins."

That sounded like a bad idea, and Harry whipped the tie off over his head.

"There's something I want to show you," she told him. "In the bedroom."

"The bedroom, huh? I've seen your bedroom before," he said, trying not to move.

"There's something in there you just might not have seen before. I don't think you want to miss it."

"Sounds intriguing."

"Oh, it is," she promised. "Are you coming?" she asked as she turned to go.

"I expect I will," he assured her as he attempted to follow her. He'd forgotten that his jeans had pooled around his ankles, and he tripped on them, skipping forward, trying to disentangle his feet before he crashed to the floor. When he finally freed himself and stood upright, he looked up to find her pressing her lips together to keep from laughing at him, her eyes bright with mirth.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?"

"I do," she said, and she laughed. "Very."

"I'll teach you to laugh at me!"

He chased her into the bedroom, catching up with her at the bed. He tackled her, landing on top of her and pinning her to the bed with his weight. Sera felt herself panicking for a moment until she reminded herself once again that this was Harry, and she wriggled herself around so that she was facing him. She pulled his lips down to hers and kissed him with everything she had.

"Fire," she whispered when they finally broke apart.

"Yeah, me, too," he breathed, moving down to kiss her neck, running his hands over the little lace-covered garment she wore.

"No," she said. "I want a fire. In the fireplace."

"Really? Now?" he asked in disbelief.

"Now," she said, pushing him away.

While Harry lit the fire (muttering constantly because he had to do so without the benefit of magic), Sera arranged herself on the bed, still wearing his shirt, and waited regally for him to finish.

"Thank you," she said when he'd finished and joined her on the bed. "I do love a good fire."

"Well let's see what else we can do about that." He ran a finger under the top edge of the little lace thing she was wearing, down one barely-covered breast and up the other, making her shudder. "Where did you get this?" he asked. He'd certainly remember if he'd ever seen this before.

"Do you like it?" she asked, closing her eyes to savor his touch.

"Mm hmm," he confirmed, replacing his finger with his lips.

Sera opened her eyes. "I borrowed it from Professor McGonagall."

The look of horror and revulsion that crossed Harry's face at the thought of his aged professor wearing something like this, how that would look, and Sera wearing it now, sent Sera into peals of laughter. It was many minutes before she could breathe properly again, and Harry was looking at her with reproach.

"You were joking, weren't you?"

"Yes," she snorted, taking a deep breath to still the giggles that threatened to overtake her again. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it."

"You hurt my feelings when you laugh at me like that, you know," he said, pouting slightly.

"Oh dear. Show me where your feelings are, and I'll kiss them all better." She kissed his neck.

"Not quite there. A little lower," he directed.

She planted a kiss on his breastbone.

"You're getting warmer, but still a little lower," he urged again.

Next, his belly button. "Still lower," he sang.

"If I go any lower, I'll be kissing your feet," she noted. "You don't have a foot fetish you haven't told me about, do you?"

"Oh, I've got some fetishes, but none of them involve my feet," he assured her. "I said, lower."

"Ooh, I like it when you're all forceful, master," she quipped.

Suddenly Harry bolted away from her. "Don't call me that!" he shouted, memories – of Wormtail and Voldemort, a courtyard, Cedric – assailing him and driving the heat from him.

"Harry! I . . . I'm sorry," Sera said, tears leaping to her eyes at his rebuke. "I was just . . ." She scooted back away from him and wrapped his shirt around her knees, huddling into it, away from him. "I was only . . ."

Harry's heart was hammering, and he closed his eyes and concentrated on making it return to its regular rhythm. "Not now," he chanted to himself over and over again. "Not now."

When he looked up at Sera and saw the tears running down her cheeks, he wanted to pull a Dobby and hurt himself to atone for what he'd done to her.

"Sera . . ."

"Don't, Harry, just . . . don't," she said, sniffing.

But he had to put this right, and he slid over toward her. She curled tighter into the ball she'd made inside his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," he said, reaching out a hand to touch her. When she didn't pull away, he was encouraged. "I . . . I'm sorry. I just remembered Wormtail calling Voldemort that in the graveyard, and it . . . triggered something. I'm so sorry."

Sera sniffed again, thinking how ironic this was. After what she'd just gone through, it was _Harry _who was experiencing PTSD. "So I remind you of Wormtail, do I?"

"No, of course you don't. It was just that word. Is there anything I can do to show you how sorry I am?"

"I don't know. You've kind of ruined the mood."

"I guess I have." He collapsed with a huff back onto the bed. If he could kick himself, he would have.

"Are you all right?" she asked in a small voice a minute later.

"Me? You're worried about me? After what I just did to you?!"

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry about," he said earnestly, raising himself up on an elbow. He reached out to touch her arm, then slid his hand down until he'd trapped her fingers with his. "It was all me. Please, Sera, do you forgive me?"

Sera uncurled from her protective shell and came to lie in his arms. He closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer heavenward, wrapping her tightly in his embrace. "Thank you."

And as much as she thought she needed to make love to Harry tonight, that was how they fell asleep.

##########

When Sera awoke in the morning, she was thrilled to find Harry in bed with her– until she remembered why he was here. Last night hadn't gone exactly as she'd planned. She'd planned to make love to Harry in such a memorable way, perhaps more than once, that he'd never forget it (although perhaps they _had _accomplished that). Then she was going to stay awake the entire remainder of the night, just watching him sleep, drinking in all she could of him before he left her, for good. She would make him breakfast, then find a way to say good-bye to him without falling apart. Despite what he'd thought, she had no intention of trying to talk him into staying with her. If he came to that decision on his own, after what was going to be such a memorable night, well, that would be just fine with her.

She sighed quietly. Nothing had worked out like she'd planned. She hoped even more fervently now that she wasn't pregnant – it would be more difficult to tell herself that Harry had been the culprit. Life sucks, she told herself. She guessed that she could still do the breakfast part of her plan, and she started to slide out of bed to get to work on that when he reached out a hand to stop her.

"Wait," he requested, his voice thick with sleep. "I ruined last night. Will you let me make up for it this morning?"

"What are you offering?" she asked.

"Remember that last night in the farmhouse? The night before Snape caught us?"

Sera nodded. She remembered it well, and her blood started rushing a little faster through her veins.

"I never paid you back," he continued.

Sera looked into his eyes. "You don't have to do this."

"I know. I want to." And she could tell that he did.

"Can I say something first, one last time?"

He knew what was coming, but he nodded anyway.

"I love you, Harry Potter."

"I love you, too, Serafina Mallory."

She reached up to kiss him, tenderly. Their mouths fused together and they allowed the passion to swallow them up, one last time.

##########

Breakfast had been eaten, and all that was left was the leaving. Despite her best intentions, Sera had broken down. She'd hugged him, then run into the bathroom, where Harry knew she was crying. He nearly went in there after her, but he knew if he did, he'd never leave. So he told her good-bye through the closed bathroom door, and he left.

He slumped against her closed door for a time, eyes closed, fighting back the tears that were lurking just beneath the surface, glad that the hallway seemed to be deserted. He'd showered while Sera made breakfast, but he hadn't brought any clean clothes with him, and he'd put all of the clothes he'd been wearing when he arrived here yesterday back on, including his shirt that she'd slept in. He could smell her on it, and he brought the shirt to his nose and inhaled deeply. Perhaps he wouldn't wash this shirt. Perhaps he'd keep it as it was, and whenever the missing of her got to be too much, he'd take it out and visit her in her scent.

When he thought he could walk away without bursting into tears or turning around and pounding on Sera's door and demanding re-entry, he opened his eyes to find Snape staring at him from across the hall. They simply looked at each other for a time without speaking. Snape could see from the despair etched into Harry's every feature that he'd actually gone through with it and broken it off with Sera, and he nodded at Harry in acknowledgment of the sacrifice he was making. "It's for the best," he said softly.

Harry looked away, hoping that was true, because if it wasn't . . .

"Should I go to her?" Snape asked.

"Not yet. Give her some time. But later, yes, you should."

"Thank you," Snape said earnestly.

Harry didn't want to talk any more, not to anyone, and he pushed himself away from the door, turned and left, not sure where he was going but not really caring, as long as he could be alone for a while.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

21 _Surrender_

Harry hadn't seen Sera in three days, the longest period by far he'd been without her since they'd met early in the summer, and he was suffering from something very much like withdrawal. He hadn't been able to eat much, he was snapping at his friends, he couldn't concentrate on anything, and he was barely sleeping and when he did it was punctuated by nightmares. He was trying very hard to stay away from Sera, figuring that a clean break would be easier than seeing her and pretending he had only feelings of friendship for her, until maybe it became less difficult to control. His ultimate goal was that he _would have _only feelings of friendship for her, but right now, the missing and the longing were filling him up. He was also having difficulty containing lascivious thoughts that seemed to be torturing him almost every moment of the day. He began to think something was wrong with him. Why couldn't he control himself, he wondered. This couldn't possibly be normal, could it?

When he found himself outside Sera's door, arm raised about to knock, he knew he shouldn't be here and that he was a lost cause. He debated with himself for a full two minutes, and finally his better angel won out and he was _not _going to knock and he was going to just walk away, when the door opened, surprising him. A blonde girl, a Gryffindor first-year from the looks of her, seemed just as surprised to see him standing there, and she ducked under his upraised arm and scurried down the hall.

Sera looked up and saw him, and when she smiled brightly, the devil took over again. "Are you coming in?" she asked, curious why he was just standing there.

"I really shouldn't," he said. "If I do, I'm going to do something entirely unfair to you. Maybe I should just stay out here." The force of his wanting her was trying to pull him into the room, but he was resisting with everything he had. "I probably shouldn't even have come here."

Sera knew what he meant. She'd been struggling with the same feelings he had, and as she stepped closer to the door, the pull became stronger the nearer she got.

"Well, you could just come in and have some tea, like any _friend _would," she invited. Her voice was low and sultry. Or maybe he just imagined that.

"I could, theoretically, do that," Harry agreed. Theory and reality were going to come crashing together, he knew, and he wondered which would end up being stronger. He thought he knew. Still he didn't move.

"So . . . are you going to?" Sera asked.

"I'm not sure."

"Well, let me know when you figure it out." Sera walked away from him, toward the kitchen, exaggerating the swing of her hips. That he was _not _imagining. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she wasn't going to allow herself to regret it. She'd missed Harry too much. Couldn't they just enjoy casual sex, between friends, without it having to mean something more significant, like that they loved each other? These were the lies she told herself, the lies she needed to believe to keep from falling apart completely. She knew if he followed her in, he was hers. If he walked away – well, he was a better man than she was.

When she heard his steps cross the threshold and the door close, she allowed herself a small smile. There was only one way this visit was going to end.

She prepared his cup of tea with the water that was still hot from her previous visitor, one of Professor McGonagall's timid first-years who had been here for a couple of hours, just hanging out. She'd made coffee while the girl was here, so she poured herself a cup and added cream and sugar. She'd never get used to all this tea drinking the British did. Thank God Uncle had provided her with a coffemaker.

She brought the tea into the living room and handed the cup to Harry. "Careful. It's . . . hot," she said, emphasizing the last word and driving the point home with her smoky stare.

Harry nearly dropped the cup, and he hastily set it down on the coffee table. Was she purposely making it difficult for him to stay away from her?

"What are all these boxes?" he asked, noticing that several file boxes cluttered her small living room.

She passed him on her way to the sofa, deliberately letting her breasts brush against his arm. Harry drew in a sharp breath at the contact and closed his eyes, then remembered he needed to breath, and he exhaled, opening his eyes.

"School records," she said.

"What?" Harry asked. His focus and his hearing seemed to be muddled by the potent aura of sensuality that seemed to be oozing out of her every pore.

"School records. Dumbledore stopped in a couple of days ago. He asked a bunch of questions about the computer. When I explained that one of the functions it performs is assistance with record-keeping, he was most interested, and I offered to computerize some of the older school records. He had these boxes delivered this morning."

Harry had stopped listening at the word "computer". While she was explaining the presence of the boxes, Sera had stuck her index finger into her coffee and was stirring it around. After each sentence, she inserted the finger into her mouth and sucked the coffee from it, her eyes never leaving Harry's. He heard himself whimper like a whipped puppy, and the wicked smile she gave him told him she knew exactly how much further she needed to push to get him where she so obviously wanted him to go.

Sera set her cup down and approached the boxes. "I think there's stuff about my uncle and your father when they were students here." She bent over the boxes, giving him a wondrous view of her backside, including the hot pink thong which was peeking out of the top of her tight jeans. Against his will, Harry's mind went back to the time when they were living in the cottage and he had taken her from behind on the kitchen table. He nearly lost himself where he stood at this memory, and he closed his eyes and took ten deep breaths, counting them out, before he trusted himself to open his eyes again.

When he did, Sera was no longer in front of him. He whirled around, as though afraid (or hoping?) that she was going to pounce on him. She was now standing by the bedroom door. What was she doing _there_? he wondered. They stared at each other across the room. Suddenly, with one swift movement, Sera tugged her shirt off over her head. Harry closed his eyes again. If he didn't look at her, he could resist. Unfortunately for his resolve, the image of her was burned onto the inside of his eyelids, and closing his eyes hadn't made the least bit of difference. When he opened them again, she was no longer there. He knew where she'd gone, and he knew if he took one step toward the bedroom door, he was a goner. But as though he were a marionette being controlled by an unseen puppeteer, he took that one step, then another, until he was inside her bedroom.

She was waiting for him between the sheets. He shed his clothes as he crossed to the bed, and he slid in next to her without touching her, waiting, telling himself uselessly that it was not too late, that they hadn't crossed any lines that couldn't be re-crossed, that he could still leave. He knew better, but it all sounded very compelling inside his head. When she rolled up on top of him, everything left his head and every emotion he'd been feeling for the last three days headed south. He wanted her now more than he ever had, and he couldn't wait any more.

"No," she said, holding him off. "There's something you need to know first. I _don't _love you," she lied. "This is just sex."

"I feel the same way," he said, then her mouth was on his and he was inside her and life was worth living again.

It was over quickly. She'd forced him too high too fast, and he couldn't hold out, and he was sorry because he'd wanted it to go on forever. When the fevered passion drained away, he was left with guilt that he'd used her. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Why?" she asked, resting her chin on her fist on his chest. She still lay on top of him.

"Because I shouldn't have come here. I knew this would happen."

"Did you see me objecting?"

"No," he admitted. "But I should be able to control myself. You're all I've been thinking about for the past three days."

"Me, too. Well, you, I mean," she corrected.

"But we decided . . ."

"We decided to be friends," she interrupted. "And I'm working on coming to terms with that. But here's my dilemma: I like sex. I'm not ashamed to admit that. And why should I stop having it just because we've decided to be friends? Or maybe I should just open the door and grab the first guy that goes by every time the urge hits? I like having sex with _you_, and I'd rather do it with _you_. You know we're good together. Is that so wrong?"

Harry wanted to shout, "YES!" because sex without the emotional attachment seemed . . . vulgar somehow. Instead, he said, slowly, "I think it is . . . for me."

"Are you saying I'm easy?"

"No," he said quickly. This conversation had the potential to go downhill fast. "I just don't want you to settle for sex with me, with no attachment, when you could have everything if you just wait for the right guy."

"I thought that was you," she said quietly.

"Sera . . ."

"I know. 'Let's not go over that again.'," she grumped. "That's not what I meant. I meant, I thought you were the right guy. How am I supposed to know who is, if it's not you? You had all the earmarks of Mr. Right. I even had you trained just the way I liked," she teased. "I really don't want to break in someone new. That's all this is about."

"But here's the problem," Harry pointed out. "_I_ can't keep doing this and not fall back in love with you. Because, of course, right now I _don't _love you, right?"

"Agreed."

"So there's _my _dilemma."

"How do you plan to solve it?" she asked. She wasn't going to help him. She was perfectly willing for him to share her bed whenever he wanted to, no strings attached, because dammit she really did like having sex with him, everything else aside. And she knew him well enough to know that if he came to her again, it would be because he had real feelings for her, because he wasn't the type of guy to use her for sex and nothing else. And when they boiled away all of the nonsense, she hadn't stopped loving him, didn't want to stop loving him, and had no intention of ever trying to stop loving him. She'd gone along with his plan because he seemed to think it was what he needed, but she had no intention of making it easy for him, though she wasn't planning any active warfare. If she was patient, he would come to her on his own, she was sure of it.

Surprising her with the sudden move, Harry flipped them over so he was on top now. "I don't know," he said, and he kissed her. "But I can't keep doing this. I'll lose my mind."

"So we're not fighting?"

"No, we're not fighting."

"Too bad. We could have had make-up sex."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "You are incorrigible. And I have to go." He looked down at her. "I can't come back. Not like this. I think I may have to stay away completely for a while, to get you out of my blood. Because I can't see you and not feel like . . . wanting to do this again."

"Well, anytime you let _that _emotion get away from you, you know where to find me," she offered. She reached up to kiss him, and he let her, but only for a moment. "I really have to go. Quidditch practice. I'm probably already late."

"So go then," she said. "What are you still doing here?"

After he dressed, he crossed to the door and looked back at her.

"I really _don't _love you, you know?" she said.

"I know," he said quietly, and he left.

##########

The more Harry thought about what he'd done, the more guilty he felt . . . and the more he wanted to do it again. The contradictory feelings were eating him alive, and he knew if he didn't speak with someone about them soon, he was going to have a meltdown. He couldn't talk to Ron – he didn't understand the sexual component of the situation. He couldn't talk to Hermione for the same reason, and besides – she was a girl. He needed a father, or a father figure, neither of whom he had any longer. He obviously couldn't talk with Snape – Harry knew how Snape felt about his relationship with Sera. Besides, Harry's dark side doubted Snape had any more experience than Ron had with women. Who'd want to be with old Snapey, anyway? She would have had to be pretty desperate. Or blind. Or not like guys with personalities. Or a professional. Harry amused himself for a while trying to decide what kind of woman would be attracted to Snape, either now or in his younger days, before the seriousness of his problem returned. He knew he had only one real option – he'd have to talk with Dumbledore. There simply was no one else. The next time he'd seen the Headmaster, he'd asked for an opportunity to talk, and Dumbledore had invited him up for tea.

##########

"So what's on your mind, Harry?" Dumbledore inquired politely, though he had a pretty good idea what was coming.

"It's about Sera, sir," Harry started. "It turned out to be much easier to _say _it was over than for it to be so. I stayed away from her for three days, and it nearly killed me." Harry knew this next bit would be difficult, but if he wanted help with his problem, he'd have to get through it. He spotted a small hole in the knee of his jeans, and he studied it carefully, feeling the edges with a finger. "And then I . . . I went to her, and we . . . I couldn't . . . she was . . ."

Dumbledore put up a hand to stop him. He could guess what had happened when Harry went to her. "I don't need the details, Harry."

Harry was relieved he understood, but he still couldn't look at Dumbledore. "I can't stop thinking about her, Professor. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can't concentrate. I just want . . . I just want to _be_ with her, if you know what I mean. I don't think . . . I think I have some sort of problem."

Dumbledore smiled indulgently at Harry. "I would agree with that assessment, Harry."

"You would?" Harry looked up at him now, surprised. He had hoped that he was over-reacting.

"Yes. It's called teenaged hormones. All the males of our species go through it, some of us worse than others. You might be surprised to learn that most of your friends have been having these issues for some time now. I suspect you're arriving at this point later than others because you've had a bit more on your mind than most of your friends have, yes? But this . . . thirst you feel for Miss Mallory _is_ perfectly normal," he assured Harry.

"I've even found myself having . . . dreams . . . about girls I consider my friends!" Harry surprised himself by confessing. He hadn't intended to get into this.

"Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Harry nodded, ashamed. There had been one frightening, mercifully brief dream, about Hermione, in a lacy shift, straddling his lap, sucking on his fingers in a most provocative way.

"I think I'm going mad!" Harry confessed, running a hand agitatedly through his hair, making it stick up even worse than it had been. "It's all I think about! I have to stop myself ten times a day from going down to Sera's rooms and . . . and doing inappropriate things! Sometimes when I'm sitting in class, I think about her, and I . . . I can't seem to control myself, Professor!" More than once he'd had to delay leaving History of Magic (his most boring class) at the end of the lesson when his daydreams about Sera had caused a physical reaction he had no interest in displaying to others.

Dumbledore couldn't help but chuckle. "What you need is a healthy dose of will power, my boy."

"Will power? Well, that means staying away from her completely, then, because when I'm around her, my resolution to be only her friend is shattered. And she doesn't help! She told me that she's willing to keep having . . . a physical relationship with me, even if we're just friends, and that just sounded so . . . wrong! But part of me was considering it, because the alternative, a life without . . . I don't think I can bear it!"

"Ahh, Harry. To be young and have such intense feelings! If you have to stay away from her in order to master your feelings, then that is what you must do," the older man advised. After a pause, he said, "There is one other thing that I could suggest."

"I'll do almost anything!" Harry sat forward in his chair, eager for anything that might help.

"I could perform a memory charm, very much like the memory charm that I was negotiated into agreeing to perform which caused you and Miss Mallory to flee."

Harry sat back again, disconcerted. "But then I wouldn't remember her at all? I'm not sure I want that. Sunny . . . means more than that."

Dumbledore understood, and he was proud of Harry once again for not taking the easy way out on that one. He could have had all of the guilt associated with that incident erased from his mind, but he had chosen not to. "Memory charms can take any form I choose to give them. I could make you forget everything, or just Miss Mallory's middle name, or just the fact that right now, today, you love her. You'd remember everything about your summer together, you'd remember the strong feelings that you had for her, you'd remember that she was your first . . . she _was _your first, wasn't she, Harry?"

Harry nodded quickly in acknowledgment.

"We should all remember our first." Dumbledore sat back with a dreamy smile on his face, as though he was remembering _his_ first. Harry shuddered, and Dumbledore got back on topic. "You'd remember Sunny. Everything else would remain intact. You'd only lose the love."

"Which is what we decided was best," Harry finished. This idea had some merit, but he wanted to think about it, and he needed to talk to Sera. He couldn't do something like that without her agreeing to it, too. "Can I think it over and talk with Sera?"

"Of course you can," Dumbledore said. "The decision is yours. Just let me know how I can help, and I'll do what I can."

"Thank you, sir."

##########

"I need to talk to you," Harry told Sera when she opened the door at his knock.

"Come on in," she invited.

Harry went into the kitchen, careful not to touch her on his way by, and sat at the table, watching her warily, afraid she might try some of the tricks she'd used last time to get him into the bedroom. They'd worked so well, she might decide to have another go. He needed his mind clear for this discussion, however, so he intended to resist her no matter what she tried.

"Do you want something to drink?" she asked politely, sensing his mood and knowing that now was not the time to tease.

"No, thank you. Would you sit, please?" he asked, indicating a chair across the table from him.

After she sat, he started, studying his hands as he spoke. "I went to speak with Dumbledore today. I've been having a hard time staying away from you, as you know, and I was hoping he might have some advice. He told me that what I'm feeling is perfectly normal, which was kind of a relief, quite frankly, because I thought something must be seriously wrong with me. He told me I had two options. I could exercise will power, which doesn't seem to be doing me much good to this point."

Here, Harry hesitated, knowing that mention of the memory charm might start her down a path of remembrance that ended in a bad place.

"What was the other option?" Sera prodded. Was he going to ask her to go away?

"A memory charm," he said, and he looked in her eyes for the first time since his arrival.

"A memory charm?" Sera repeated, looking away. "Really? After everything, you're considering a memory charm? Maybe we just should have done that back in the States and saved ourselves some grief!"

"No, listen to me, Sera! I don't want my memory completely erased. I don't want to forget you or Sunny. Dumbledore said he could do the charm so that all I'll forget is that I love you _right now_. Because I do, Sera, and I don't think I can get past that. I won't forget that I loved you before or that we had something special."

"Sounds like an easy way out for you," she said bitterly, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, tightening her defenses to keep out what he was asking her to accept. Obviously, she'd underestimated the level of his commitment to this stupid friendship idea.

"Not just me. I won't do this unless you do it, too. This way, we could remain friends. Because if I have to rely on my will power, I don't see how I can ever see you again. Every time I do . . . well, I can't help the way I feel, and the whole point of this was to protect you."

"We're back to that again, are we?" Though she could see all the reasons it was necessary, had actually _lived through_ some of the reasons it was necessary, she was so tired of everyone hovering around her, like she was a toddler that needed constant supervision.

"But that's what it's always been about, hasn't it?" Harry pointed out. "You can't protect yourself in this world!"

"You wizardy people think you're so great," she said bitterly, jumping to her feet and turning away from him. "You still use friggin' quills, for God's sake! Have none of you heard of a pen?! And is there some reason why you only use fire for light? Does electricity not make loads more sense?"

Harry let that pass. They weren't here to talk about quills or electric lights. And he forced himself not to think about how attractive she was when she got angry.

But she was only getting started. "You know, I'm getting really tired of you magical people looking down on me. Even Mr. Weasley, who claims to love 'people like me'. Even he seems to think we're all a bunch of chimpanzees who should be patted on the head when you give us a hammer and a nail and we figure out what to do with them. We're not idiots, nor are we geniuses for coming up with some basic thing, like the telephone, which by the way, aren't as primitive a means of communication as you all seem to think!"

Harry fought not to let a sigh escape him. This conversation had gotten so far off topic he feared they'd need to start over. When she seemed to have wound down, he said, "So what do you think? About the memory charm?"

Sera didn't want to think, about anything. This was it – this was the end of them. And he seemed perfectly willing to go along with that. Despite the fact that she'd agreed in the abstract that breaking up was the right thing to do, she was finding it harder to put that idea into practice. And she resented him just a little bit for apparently finding it so easy. "Sure. Fine. Whatever you think is best," she said resignedly. "So when do you . . . when do we do it?"

Harry shrugged. "Whenever I tell Dumbledore we're ready, I guess."

"No point in putting it off, is there?" she asked. She thought briefly about bartering, once again, for one more night with him, but what would it matter in the end? "Let's do it tonight. Might as well get it over with, right?"

Harry stood up. "I'm sorry it has to be this way, Sera."

"Sure. Me, too." Now that she'd agreed to this, she just wanted him gone. She was going to cry, she knew, and she didn't want him here to see. "Oh, and you might as well take this." She pulled the ring off her finger. He'd never gotten around to buying her a nicer ring, but she didn't care. She loved this one, for all that it had stood for. Now it was just a piece of metal.

Harry came to stand behind her and encircled her with his arms, holding her tightly, resting his cheek on her shoulder. "You keep it," he said. "Consider it a friendship ring."

Despite Sera's best intentions, she leaned back into him, giving in to the warmth of his embrace, allowing herself one more opportunity to feel his arms around her. She knew that if she turned around to face him and pressed her body against his that he would give himself to her one last time, but she couldn't do it because it wouldn't mean anything, despite all her assurances to him that she was willing to accept only a physical relationship with him.

"Go," she whispered.

And he did, leaving her standing in the kitchen, holding onto the sink for support.

##########

Snape found her later in her courtyard, shooting baskets. She was still crying, but the paroxysmal weeping that had forced her into a fetal position on her kitchen floor had ended, leaving her with a gaping hole in her gut that she didn't know how to fill. He watched her for a while, not quite sure how to comfort her. She noticed his presence immediately but made no effort to stop or speak to him until her ball clanged off the rim and ricocheted directly to him. Snape caught it awkwardly and held onto it. Finally, she approached him and stood dejectedly before him. She didn't ask how he knew what they'd agreed to do. She hadn't gone to him with her troubles, and she doubted that Harry had either. But she could see that he knew.

"Is it over?" she asked.

"Potter's with the headmaster now," Snape told her, dropping the ball. "I told Dumbledore I'd . . . take care of you."

"I changed my mind," she told him.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want it. The memory charm. I see why Harry needed it, but I . . . want to remember. I want to remember it all."

"Be reasonable, child," Snape said. "After today, he will be no more than a friend to you."

"I understand that," she said softly.

"Then why put yourself through this any longer?" he asked, not understanding why anyone would choose to continue to be as miserable as Sera obviously was now.

"Because he's the best thing that ever happened to me," she said simply. "I _want _to keep loving him. It's the only thing I have to . . . the only thing that will . . . I can't live without it."

"I don't think you understand what you're sentencing yourself to – a lifetime of longing that can't be satisfied, of affections that cannot be returned, the agony of unrequited love. And maybe worse, the attempts to replace that loss with a succession of people and objects that never measure up, each attempt more self-injurious than the last. That type of pain can corrupt you and turn you into someone who is unable to experience joy and happiness, someone who will end up alone and miserable."

Sera had the feeling they weren't talking about her any more. "Is that what happened to you?" she asked softly.

Snape thought about denying it, but he really wanted her to see what she was dooming herself to, and he nodded. "Yes."

"Who was she?"

Again, Snape hesitated. Was there anything to be gained by going into details? Finally he decided there was nothing to be lost, and he said, "Lily Potter. Of course, she wasn't Lily Potter when I met her."

Sera put a hand over her mouth. "Harry's mother?"

Snape nodded. "We knew each other as children, long before we came here to school. She was really the only friend I'd ever had. When she began associating with James Potter," he said this name with contempt, "she no longer had time for me."

Sera already knew from Harry how James had treated her uncle. Now she could guess why. James had known that Snape had feelings for Lily, and that was all the added impetus he needed to torment the strange boy that no one liked but his girlfriend.

"And you loved her?"

"From the moment I first set eyes on her, when I was just a small child. She was . . . special."

"Can you see her in Harry?"

"In the eyes," Snape said. He still saw those eyes, her eyes, each night before he went to sleep. They were the only reason he'd agreed to help protect her son, the only reason he'd been able to keep doing it all these years. "And in some of his character traits," Snape was forced to admit. "He has her compassion, her kindness, and her sense of fairness. And her courage. But in all other things, he is his father through and through."

"And that's why you and Harry have . . . struggled?"

"Yes," Snape admitted. "Don't you see? I don't want you to turn out like I have . . . alone in the world."

"You're not alone, Uncle," she interrupted. "You have me now."

Snape held her face between his hands and looked down at her. "Yes, I do. And I can never express how grateful I am for you. And it's why I don't want you to suffer as I have suffered. I always thought that, some day, I would be able to move on, that the pain would lessen, but to this day, I still love her. She inspired that type of strong feeling. And I'm afraid that her son may have inherited that from her as well and that you will wake up one day twenty years from now and realize that you've spent your life waiting for something that cannot happen."

Sera hugged him and cried again, but her tears were as much for him now as they were for her own situation. She'd had no idea why her uncle had remained alone all these years, and now that she knew the sad facts, she wondered if she was making the right decision.

She pulled away from him slightly and looked up at him. "If someone had offered you a memory charm all those years ago, would you have done it?"

Snape sighed, wishing she hadn't asked him that. "Probably not," he admitted. He, too, had hung onto the love, despite the pain it caused, because it had been the only positive force he'd ever experienced in his life. Had Sera inherited from him the inability to let go? But she was young, right? Her life didn't have to mirror his. Maybe she'd be able to move beyond Potter, find a suitable young man, and settle into a life that included children and happiness and fulfillment, all without a memory charm. He could wish that for her, and he could wish to be around to see it when it did happen. Although he would have preferred that she take the easy way out, he would respect her wishes.

"Tell you what," she suggested, her tone lightening a little. "I'll get the memory charm if you get one, too."

He looked down at her and brushed the remaining tears off her cheeks. "You're impertinent," he said.

"That's what I thought," she said, with a small smile.

"You know this will be hard," he pointed out, giving it one last shot. "The next time you see him, the first time you see him with someone else, every time you remember your time with him?"

"I know," she said, but she didn't, not really, and she couldn't until those things happened. She pulled away from him. "But I have you to come crying to, right?"

"You do," he confirmed.

"We can cry and eat chocolates and watch sad movies together," she suggested with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Well, we can eat chocolates together. I'll leave the other to you."

"Oh, and can you get me a treadmill?"

"A what?"

"A treadmill. It's a piece of exercise equipment. It's like running in place. I assume I can't go running around the grounds, so I'll need something here."

"Why?"

"I'm pretty sure you don't want me to tell you that."

His look told her that he clearly thought he did.

"Well, you may not know it, but Harry and I have been . . . getting together rather frequently since we've come here. I find that I like . . . getting together quite a lot. And since he won't be interested in doing that any more, it's either find someone else to . . . get together with or work off that extra energy some other way."

"I'll have it for you tomorrow," he promised, wishing, after all, that she hadn't told him.

##########

Sera was a little surprised and not a little nervous when Professor Dumbledore appeared at her door the very next day. "May I come in?" he asked.

Warily, she allowed him entry and shut the door. She was alert, ready to jump aside if he tried to hit her with any type of memory spell. She watched his hands closely to make sure he didn't appear to be going for his wand. Had she realized that he could have accomplished the spell without his wand, she probably wouldn't have allowed him to come in.

"You seem . . . fearful of something, Miss Mallory," Dumbledore noted, his blue eyes searching hers.

"I'm afraid you're going to do the memory charm on me," she admitted.

"I would not do that against your will," Dumbledore assured her.

"You were going to this summer," she pointed out.

"Ahh, but circumstances were different then. Let me assure you that I mean to do nothing other than talk with you today. May we sit?"

Sera nodded, still on her guard. Dumbledore seated himself on the couch, but Sera chose to perch on the arm of the chair, ready for instant flight, a move which Dumbledore noticed.

"Your uncle tells me that you have chosen to forego the memory charm he offered to you."

Sera nodded. "That's right."

"He has explained to you, I am sure, what it could be like for you if you retain your love for Harry when he feels nothing for you but friendship."

"He has. I'm willing to take that risk."

"Miss Mallory, I do not wish to influence your decision or pressure you to change your mind. I simply wanted to impress upon you the finality of what Harry has had done. I fear you may be holding out some small hope that his love for you was great enough that the charm may not last or may not have completely eliminated that love. You may think that if you wait long enough, he will return to you. I want you to understand that neither of those things is going to happen. If you choose to retain your love for Harry, I will not interfere with that, but I want you to do so knowing full well that his love for you, other than that love which he feels for all of his friends, is gone. I know this because I took it."

In truth, this had proved to be one of the more difficult memory charms Dumbledore had ever had to perform, both due to the complexity of what he was trying to remove and not remove, and due to what he already knew was Harry's extraordinary ability to love. And there had been no doubt in Dumbledore's mind, when he had finally worked through all of the layers of memories in Harry's mind, that Harry had felt real love, and not a teenager's infatuation, for Serafina Mallory. It had taken nearly two hours to ensure that all current memory of Harry's love for Sera was gone, while still leaving the memory of what they once had. Dumbledore had then had to spend another fifteen minutes getting rid of the lust, which could have been just as disastrous if left behind.

Dumbledore had been exhausted at the end of the session, as though he'd performed intricate brain surgery, which he supposed he actually had. After two hours in a trance-like state, Harry "awoke" fresh and rested and with no knowledge of what they'd been doing in Dumbledore's office. He'd wished Dumbledore good night as though they'd just been having a friendly chat and had left the Headmaster's office humming tunelessly.

"It is over for him, Miss Mallory."

Sera's shoulders slumped a little lower the longer he spoke. The truth was, she _had _been holding onto a glimmer of hope that Harry's love for her was so strong that it couldn't be erased by anything. She knew it was unrealistic, but she couldn't seem to help herself. And now he was telling her that her slim hope was impossible.

"Okay," she whispered.

"If you wish to reconsider your decision now, in light of this, I would be happy to assist you," he offered kindly.

"No, thank you," she said. "Harry was . . . _is _the best thing that ever happened to me. I feel like I will have nothing left inside me if you remove my love for him. I was empty before. I don't want to be that way again. Even if I am the only one that feels this way."

Dumbledore nodded. "You are very much like your uncle in some ways, Miss Mallory. I accept your decision, and I wish you only the very best. If there is ever anything that I _can _do for you, I hope you will not hesitate to ask."

"What . . . what _does _he remember?"

"He remembers how you met, and how you fell in love. He remembers the details of your many encounters together. He remembers your child and how you lost her. He remembers everything that he learned from your uncle over the summer. He remembers everything but that he loves you, in the way a man loves a woman, right now. He does not, however, remember that he's had a memory charm. He will not know _why _he no longer loves you."

"Just so I understand – he loves me and just can't remember that, or he doesn't love me?"

"Does it really make a difference in the end?"

Sera thought it did, to her, but she said, "No, but I'd like to know just the same."

"True love cannot be destroyed by a third party any more than it can be conjured out of thin air. I performed a memory charm on Harry, Miss Mallory. He still loves you. He just doesn't remember that fact. Nor will he ever."

Lenni came wandering out of the bedroom, yawning and stretching, having obviously just woken from a nap. Her presence reminded Dumbledore of something. "Oh, he will not remember Lenni."

"Not remember Lenni? Why?"

"I felt it best to remove the only remaining physical link between the two of you that ties him to his past with you."

"Why?"

"Because the danger was very great, Miss Mallory, that Harry would fall _back _in love with you."

"Through Lenni?" she asked incredulously.

"It was possible," Dumbledore admitted with a shrug. "I wished to remove that possibility. How are you coming along with the computer project?"

Sera started at the sudden change in conversation. "Um . . . fine," she said. "It's actually rather interesting. Some of those records are really old."

"You may even find some mention of me in those really old records," Dumbledore noted with a twinkle in his eyes. "Are you certain, really certain, that you don't want me to . . .?"

"I'm certain, thank you."

"Then I must be going. I will see you soon, I am sure."

"Thanks for stopping in." Sera closed the door softly after he'd left and stood on the spot for a very long time.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

22 _Static_

So Harry returned to his former life, now no longer plagued by constant thoughts of Serafina Mallory. He attended classes, he hung out with his friends, he practiced Quidditch, he studied, and he met frequently with Dumbledore in private sessions with the Headmaster.

Meanwhile, Sera was left to her own devices. Her visits from Professor McGonagall's timid first-years were getting fewer and further between now that the youngsters were becoming more accustomed to the castle. Hermione dropped in on her from time to time, but Harry hadn't been to visit once.

A week ago, her period had arrived, taking with it the fear/hope that she was pregnant.

Sera was still working on Dumbledore's project, which consumed as much time as she wanted it to because the records were exhaustive. Once she finished computerizing one box, another appeared. She wasn't sure whether Dumbledore was really interested in having this job done or whether he had just dreamed it up as something to keep her busy, but she was grateful for it. She spent several hours each day in front of her computer immersed in interesting records hundreds of years old, and it allowed her to keep herself from thinking too much about Harry.

She also worked a couple of evenings each week with her uncle as he continued to do research on the new potions textbook, which was almost complete. Several times, Hagrid had come for her, and he'd taken her down to his hut to visit and meet some new and exotic animal. She enjoyed the opportunity to get outside and breathe fresh air and actually _feel _weather. She also enjoyed most of the creatures Hagrid introduced her to, especially the golden baby unicorns.

She ate most meals alone because her uncle had responsibilities and had to eat in the Great Hall with the students. Cooking just wasn't as much fun when it was done for one, but Sera forced herself to continue to experiment with new dishes, because she could see Dobby this way, and Dobby was always so interested in talking about Harry, whom he worshiped. But what she made she rarely ate because her appetite had deserted her, as though Harry had taken it with him when he left. Sera was careful not to mention Harry's name to either Hermione, who knew he'd received a memory charm and assumed Sera had as well, or to her uncle, because the couple of times she had, he had looked at her with such a pitying expression that she couldn't stand it.

And every day she was forcing herself to do these things, keeping at bay the depression that threatened to suck the very essence of what she was from her. Depression could be much like a dementor, surrounding you, making you feel cold and sad, stealing your very soul if it got too close, changing what you were, making you less. In the light of day, there were things to keep her occupied, but when darkness fell, it was more difficult not to succumb. Escaping into sleep would have been a relief except for the dreams, all of which contained Harry, so she rarely slept. As the exhaustion began to build, she was finding it more difficult to fight off the dark feelings building inside her. Snape had found her a counselor, and Sera met with her once a week to discuss her past and her feelings, and it helped a little, but not enough to keep the darkness at bay when she was alone.

Music could have been an escape, had always been that for her, but now she wanted nothing to do with music that was uplifting and joyful. When she listened to music, it was to songs of heartache and loss, further feeding the depression inside her.

Only Lenni provided her with any consolation, but he was just a kitten after all, much too small to hold all of the grief that now consumed Sera.

She wasn't eating or sleeping well, and she'd stopped taking care of herself. Days went by between showers, but who was there to notice if she smelled or her hair wasn't as shiny as it used to be? She had yet to step foot on the treadmill her uncle had provided for her, and she hadn't picked up a basketball since before Harry's departure – she simply didn't have the energy to do either. Her life and everything she loved had ended the last time Harry had walked out her door.

Snape was becoming increasingly worried about her. Despite her protestations that she was fine and the surface way she seemed to be getting on with her life, he could see that something was fundamentally different about his niece. It was in the eyes, which had always sparkled with life but now seemed dark as death, and the way she held her head, as though bowed from a great weight. He made an effort to spend more time with her, though she didn't seem to want that and it didn't seem to help. He offered to take her shopping in London, figuring a day away from here might help, but she declined, preferring to stay alone in her room.

After a couple of weeks of watching her and worrying about her, Snape spoke privately with Hermione, asking for her assistance in providing some companionship for Sera, a task which Hermione predictably not only agreed to help with, but went a little overboard with.

And it was this promise to help that brought Hermione and several others to Sera's door on a Saturday night. She'd been recruiting and coercing everyone she met to come with her, and she'd managed to collect several people who were mostly just interested in seeing Sera's rooms, which all had heard about but few had visited. Hermione had deliberately not invited Harry, but at the last minute, he'd heard her talking with someone else about it and had invited himself along. It had been a couple of weeks since he'd seen his "old friend", and he had nothing better to do, so he thought he'd tag along.

Sera was surprised by the knock on her door. She had supper on the stove and had planned to try to eat, then watch a little television and then probably go to bed and try to actually get some sleep. There was very little else to do on a Saturday night when you were stuck in your rooms alone. She was even more surprised by the group of people she found in the hallway when she opened the door.

"Hi, Sera!" Hermione said brightly. "I brought some friends. We were looking for something to do, and we thought we'd come down and say hello."

"Okay," Sera said, looking suspiciously at Hermione, suspecting immediately that her uncle had put her up to this.

"Can we come in?"

Sera thought about saying no. She was lonely, but she didn't want company. It was this contradiction of feeling that she'd been living with for the last two weeks. But Hermione was looking at her so hopefully, so Sera said, "Of course," and opened the door wider. "Come on in."

They began to file in, Hermione, then Ron and Ginny, and then four people she didn't know. Last of all, causing her to nearly stop breathing, was Harry Potter. He smiled at her, and Sera could feel her heart quickening and she seemed unable to draw a full breath. She tried to smile back at him, but the attempt failed miserably.

"Hello, Sera," he said. "How have you been?"

"I've been fine," she lied, not sure how she was even able to form the words around the pressure in her chest. "And you?"

"Great. Just great." He entered her rooms and moved away from her to speak with Ron, as though she were just an old, unimportant acquaintance. Sera's heart dropped into the pit of her stomach, and she slowly shut the door after making sure that Harry was the last of them.

Hermione was watching Sera closely, observing the impact Harry's appearance had had on her, confused. Had something gone wrong with Sera's memory charm? She began to wonder if she'd made a mistake letting Harry come.

"Let me introduce you," she said, taking Sera gently by the arm. "You know Ron and Ginny. This is Dean Thomas, Jamie Wood, Valerie Comstock, and Parvati Patil. Everyone, this is Sera Mallory."

They murmured greetings to each other, then stood around rather awkwardly.

"Can I get anyone something to drink?" Sera asked. It seemed rude to tell them she was just about to have supper. The time for their own dinner in the Great Hall had come and gone hours ago.

"That would be lovely," Hermione said. "Let me help you."

"All right. Everyone, just make yourselves at home," Sera invited. "It'll just be a minute."

Sera chanced a look at Harry before entering the kitchen. He had picked up Lenni and was scratching her under her chin. "What's your cat's name?" he asked.

"Lenni," she said. So he really didn't remember.

"He's cute," Harry said.

"She," Sera corrected, then led Hermione into the kitchen. Once there, Sera leaned against the counter for support. She hadn't been ready for this. She would have liked to have had some time to prepare for this first meeting with Harry. Maybe it wouldn't have helped, but maybe . . .

She felt Hermione's hand on her arm. "I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I thought you'd like some company. I know how hard it must be, cooped up here all the time. I didn't invite Harry. He just sort of . . . came along."

Sera looked up at her, and Hermione saw the start of tears in her eyes. "It's okay," Sera said, trying to sound convincing. "Um, glasses are up there," she said, indicating the cupboard that held them.

Hermione went where she was directed and took several glasses down while Sera clutched the sink and tried not to fall apart completely.

"Did something go wrong with the memory charm?" Hermione asked quietly.

Sera thought about lying, but she could really use someone to talk to. "I didn't do it. I didn't want to forget."

"Oh, Sera!" Hermione said, regretting even more that she'd brought Harry here tonight. How difficult this must be for her! "I'll ask everyone to leave. I'm so sorry! I didn't know!"

"No, it's all right," Sera said. "It's just . . . I haven't seen Harry since the night Dumbledore did the spell on him. I just wasn't ready, I guess."

"I'm sorry," Hermione repeated, and she pulled Sera into a hug. Sera had to fight the tears that wanted to start.

"You can't tell him," Sera said into her shoulder. "He doesn't know."

"Everything all right?" a too-familiar voice asked from the door.

Sera pulled away from Hermione, wiping furiously at her eyes, and turned her back on Harry. "Everything's great."

Harry looked questioningly at Hermione, but she just shrugged her shoulders. What could she say?

The evening could have been nice. There was music (Sera's) and laughter (not Sera's), and everyone else seemed to really enjoy themselves. They'd gone out into the courtyard, where they marveled over Sera's treadmill and couldn't figure out why anyone would want to run in place. She tried to explain it, but these were people who climbed a million steps every day and got all the exercise they needed just going back and forth to class. She talked a couple of them, including Harry, into picking up the basketball and shooting hoops with her, but even having someone to play ball with didn't provide Sera with any relief from the grief gripping her heart.

Later in the evening, Hermione yawned and looked at her watch. "Goodness, it's later than I thought! I've got to get back to arithmancy!"

Taking this as a cue, they all started to rise and make leaving noises. Sera hadn't wanted them here, but now that they were leaving, she wished they'd stay longer. She wondered if her life would ever even out again.

As the others walked toward the door, Harry hung back, playing with Lenni in the courtyard. Last out the door, Hermione looked back at Harry, wondering why he wasn't coming along. Seeing her guests out, Sera was at the door with her. "Do you want me to bring him with me?" Hermione asked.

Sera looked back at Harry, and her heart swelled so much it was painful. "No. It's okay. We had to talk to each other sooner or later. Might as well get it over with."

"Are you sure?"

Sera wasn't, but she nodded. "Good night."

"Maybe we can do this again some time," Hermione said hopefully, and she left. Sera closed the door behind her and leaned against it, watching Harry.

What was he still doing here? she wondered. Had he deliberately stayed behind to speak with her privately? Despite what Dumbledore had told her, maybe the memory charm hadn't worked, she thought hopefully. Maybe he remembered . . . everything. Maybe he'd only been pretending that he didn't love her, and he had stayed behind to tell her that he loved her still and always would.

And maybe purple pigs would fly backward, she said bitterly to herself and pushed herself off the door. She headed for the kitchen. Her company had left without offering to clean up, and she had work to do.

She had begun to sort the dirty dishes into the dishwasher when she heard him enter the kitchen.

"Can I help?" he asked.

"No, it's okay. I've got it."

"Come on," he said. "You know I'm good at this."

"All right," she relented. "You can finish this. I'll wash up these dishes."

Busy with what she was doing, she could avoid looking at him. She moved now to the sink and began to draw water, watching the soap form into suds as the water poured in. She looked out the window into the courtyard and noticed glasses that had been left behind by her guests. She turned the water off. "I'll be right back."

She left the kitchen and went to gather the dirty glasses. She went through the living room on her way back, checking to see if there were any left behind there as well, in no hurry to get back to the kitchen. When she returned, Harry had finished loading the dishwasher and was leaning against the counter, arms crossed in front of him, waiting for her.

She handed the glasses to him without speaking or looking up at his face and went back to the sink. She heard him open the dishwasher and add the glasses. When he spoke next, he was right beside her, and it jumped her a little.

"How have you been, Sera?" he asked softly.

"I've been fine," she said, reaching for the pasta pot in which she'd cooked her uneaten supper earlier and submerging it into the water. Her appetite had completely deserted her now.

"Are you enjoying your time here?" he pressed.

"It's been fine," she repeated.

He put a hand on her arm, and she finally looked up at him, hoping against hope that this was the moment he would tell her what she wanted so badly to hear. When she looked into his eyes, however, she lost all hope. Gone was the intense way he used to look at her, like his eyes were burning a hole into her soul, like he wanted to devour her on the spot. He looked at her now with care and concern, but nothing more. She was his friend, but nothing more. And her heart broke into one more piece.

"It's okay," he assured her. "You can tell me. I can see that something's wrong."

But she couldn't. "Really," she said with her bravest smile. "Everything's going well. I've got Dumbledore's project to keep me busy," as she spoke, she pulled away from him so that he was no longer touching her. It hurt more when he touched her. She continued scrubbing the pot that was already clean. "I have a few good friends who come to visit. I have Lenni."

"And you're okay . . . about Sunny?"

"Sunny will always hurt," she said honestly. "But yes, I'm okay. I talk to her sometimes," she admitted shyly.

"And us . . . you're okay with us?"

No, but she couldn't really tell him that, could she? "I'm okay with us."

"What happened to us, Sera?" he asked softly. "I've been trying to figure it out. I loved you so very much once. I thought we'd last forever."

"I thought so, too," Sera said. "But we agreed that this was for the best."

"But we're still friends, right?" he asked hopefully. "I know it's a little weird right now, but I'd like to still be your friend."

"I'd like that, too," she said.

"Good," he said, smiling at her, and she had to turn away to keep him from seeing the pain in her eyes.

They chatted awkwardly while they finished cleaning up, then Sera saw him to the door.

"Can I come see you again some time?" he asked after he'd stepped out into the hallway.

"Sure. You know where to find me," she said, stating the obvious.

"Good night then."

"Good night, Harry," Sera said, and she watched him walk down the hallway until he turned the corner out of sight. Still, she didn't move, and she didn't notice at first that Snape had come to his open door and was watching her from across the hall. When she finally saw him, she looked away quickly, not wanting him to see what she was feeling.

But it was too late - he'd seen it all. And he sure hadn't meant for Granger to bring Harry Potter to see his niece! "All right there, love?" he asked softly.

"No," she said, a sob erupting from her chest. She pelted across the hall and into Snape's arms. He held her, smoothing her hair and trying to hush her, his own cold heart breaking just a little for her.

##########

Sera was surprised when she received a visit the following day from Jamie Wood, one of the guests she'd entertained the night before. He stopped in to thank her again for a lovely time and stayed to chat. He was easy to talk with and his boyish good looks didn't hurt either (he was the spitting image of his older brother, Oliver). He further ingratiated himself with her by asking if she would teach him how to play basketball. They had their first lesson that day, and they ended it an hour later, both of them sweaty and Jamie smiling widely. Even Sera felt a little better after the physical activity and companionship that had nothing to do with Harry Potter.

##########

Sera had begun helping Hagrid around his hut. It was good to get outside and breathe the fresh air and to feel as though she was earning her keep here. Fresh air seemed to be an elixir for her spirits. She'd also, since her little impromptu "party" with Hermione and Harry and the others, begun to force herself to run every day on the treadmill, and the increased activity and fresh air were slowly starting to bring her out of the funk she'd settled into since Harry left her. Also helping were Jamie Wood's increasingly frequent visits.

Today Hagrid had fetched her early in the evening, and she was cleaning out the pumpkin patch. She'd nearly finished raking when she heard voices approaching from the growing gloom. When she made out the forms of Harry and Ginny Weasley, walking closely together, she stood still, hoping they wouldn't notice her, hoping they wouldn't talk to her, hoping they wouldn't see her shatter into a million pieces.

But they did see her. "Hello, Sera," Harry said, feeling rather guilty, though he didn't know why he should. "Where's Hagrid?"

"Oh, he's around here somewhere. Hello, Ginny."

Ginny nodded in greeting.

"He's not supposed to leave you alone!" Harry pointed out.

"It's fine. He hasn't gone far," Sera assured him, and she continued raking the spot that she'd already cleared, just for something to do.

Hagrid's voice boomed at them from somewhere nearby. "Are yeh almos' finished, Sera? It'll be time ter ge' you back ter the castle." Hagrid rounded the corner of the hut. "Oh, hello, Harry. Ginny."

"Hello, Hagrid," they both said.

"Harry, would yeh mind escorting Sera back up ter the castle?" Hagrid asked. "Seeing as you're headed that way?"

Hagrid's voice and demeanor told Harry that his large friend was not happy with him, but he didn't know why that might be. "No. Not at all," Harry said immediately.

"All righ' then. Thanks for yer help, lass," Hagrid said. "I'll see yeh again soon."

"Good night, Hagrid," Sera said, and he went inside without speaking a further word to Harry or Ginny. Harry looked after him, puzzled.

"I'd like to finish this," Sera said. "I'm almost done. Do you mind waiting?"

"No, go ahead," Harry said. He perched himself atop a large pumpkin and watched her work.

"Harry, I've got revising to do," Ginny said. "I'm going to head back up now. I'll see you later."

Sera deliberately turned her back to them, raking vigorously, so she wouldn't see or hear if they kissed on parting (they did not). She heard Ginny call good night to her, and she answered in kind.

Sera continued to work until she had raked the entire patch clean of every fallen leaf and bit of dried grass. Only then did she turn to face Harry again. He was watching her through half-closed eyes, slouching against the pumpkin. He jumped up when she turned around. "Done then?" he asked.

"I just have to put the leaves in a pile over there. Hagrid's going to burn them. It will go faster if you help," she said, pointing to another rake resting against Hagrid's house.

Harry took out his wand, pointed it at the leaves, and said, "Wingardium leviosa." The leaves jumped into the air, moved to the spot that Sera had indicated, and fell back to the earth in a neat pile.

"You are unbelievable," Sera said.

"Thank you," Harry answered, tucking his wand back into the waistband of his jeans.

"I didn't mean that as a compliment."

"Ready, then?"

Sera stood her rake next to the other. "Ready."

They began to walk up toward the castle, darkness gathering quickly around them as black clouds rolled in.

"Feels like rain," Sera noted, rubbing her bare arms briskly.

"Are you cold?" Harry asked. He slipped his robe from his shoulders and draped it over hers.

"Thanks," she said with a grateful smile.

Immediately they both felt the drizzle of cold rain, though neither of them quickened their pace in response.

"It's raining," Harry noted.

"Mm hmm," Sera agreed, trying not to be too obvious about the fact that she was inhaling deeply of the scent in his robe.

"You like the rain," Harry remembered.

"More so when it's warm, yes, but I do like the rain," she said, pleased he remembered. She hadn't been out in the rain in so long, she'd almost forgotten how much she liked it herself, and she walked with her face raised to the sky, allowing the cold rain to wet her face and run down her neck. Until she tripped over an exposed rock. Harry grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. She smiled her thanks, and he let go of her arm. She resolved to watch her step from here on out.

"Do you know what's wrong with Hagrid?" Harry blurted out. "He seemed . . . put out with me."

Sera knew, but she wasn't sure she should tell him. Then she decided, what the hell? "He's angry with you because he thinks you treated me badly. He's very loyal."

Harry was taken aback by this. "Angry? At me? And if he's going to be loyal to anyone, it should be me! I've known him longer!"

Sera shrugged. "You asked. I'm telling you."

"Have I treated you badly?" he asked softly.

"No. Remember, we talked about it and decided that . . . breaking up was the best thing to do?"

"Yeah," Harry said vaguely, not really sure that he actually did remember having that conversation.

"I've told Hagrid it was a mutual decision, but he's . . . kind of a softie, isn't he? Anyway, he's not really mad. I think it was just that you were with Ginny."

"Oh."

The rain was falling more steadily now as they approached the bridge. "Remember that first day we met?" Sera asked.

"Of course I do." Like there weren't so many other things he didn't remember.

"I asked you if you had a girlfriend. Was Ginny . . . was she the reason you hesitated?"

Harry thought back to that conversation. "No. It wasn't her. It was Cho Chang. I don't think you've met her."

"Did you love Cho back then?"

"No," he said quickly. "It was you. Only you."

"Do you love Ginny now?" Sera didn't know why she was asking these questions, and she almost wished he'd refuse to answer. But some small masochistic part of her waited for his response.

"She's got a boyfriend," Harry said, not answering the question. "We were just walking."

Sera gave him a look that clearly said, "You know what I'm talking about."

Harry looked away, then said, "Maybe. Maybe I could." What he felt for Ginny was hard to pin down. It certainly wasn't the immediate, all-consuming love he'd felt for Sera, but it was something that might grow into a love that was just as great, given time. "If she wasn't dating someone else, that is."

"Okay," Sera said. That hadn't hurt as badly as it might have.

The rain became a downpour in the space of a heartbeat. "Okay, this isn't rain any more! Run!" Harry yelled. He took her hand and began to race toward shelter. It only took a minute, but the rain drenched them both in that short time.

"Wow!" Sera said, shaking water from Harry's robe and wringing out the ends of her hair.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. He was dripping everywhere.

They didn't speak again until they were outside Sera's door. She waved in at her uncle, who'd been waiting for her return. "Thanks for walking me back, Harry. Have a good night." She slipped his robe off her shoulders and handed it to him.

"Um . . . you, too," Harry said awkwardly, careful not to touch her hand when taking the robe back, and with a small smile, he left her. Sera didn't feel like going back into her room to be alone, so she went into her uncle's office and wandered aimlessly around, touching bottles absently.

"It's raining," she informed him after a couple of minutes of silence.

"I gathered as much from your appearance. It was either that or you'd fallen into the Black Lake."

Snape watched her for a moment, and when she didn't speak again, he finally asked, "Potter escorted you home?"

"Yeah, he showed up at the hut, so Hagrid asked him if he'd mind." She paused. "He was with Ginny Weasley."

Snape raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh?"

"Yeah. He likes her. He wouldn't admit it, but I could tell."

"And how did you feel about that?"

Sera looked up at him, then looked away quickly. "How did I feel? Sheesh, that's hard to say. I felt a whole bunch of things, kind of all at once. First, I wanted to kill her, so I guess that would be jealousy. Then I felt mad at Harry, as though he was betraying me. Then I felt embarrassed that I'd seen them together. Then I just felt sad and empty. That all came and went in about five seconds. Then I just wanted them to go away, but of course, I needed someone to bring me back up here, and I couldn't very well . . . It would haven't made any sense to make Hagrid come all the way up here, would it? Not when Harry was right there."

"Well, it sounds like you handled it very well."

Sera made a small noise of disbelief, then went to stare blankly at the books on his shelf, thumbing her way across their edges, none of the titles really registering.

"I've seen the Wood boy across the way a couple of times this week," Snape noted.

"Jamie? Yeah, he's stopped in a couple of times. He's nice. I'm teaching him to play basketball."

Snape was silent for a moment, trying to frame his next question in such a way that she wouldn't get upset. "Do you remember the night you refused the memory charm, when I tried to convince you it was for the best, and I mentioned the attempts to replace what you'd lost with a succession of people that could never measure up?"

"I remember," Sera said quietly.

"Is that what this boy is?" he asked her.

He'd expected her to deny that accusation heatedly, but instead she said nothing for a time. "I'm not sure," she finally admitted. "I like him, don't get me wrong. He's very easy to talk to, and he's more than a little cute. And I can tell that he's interested in me, but I think of him as a friend. Nothing more."

"Does he know that?"

"I just met him a week ago!" she protested. "Besides, I don't know what he thinks."

"I just want you to think about why you're encouraging him to come back."

"Don't worry," Sera said sarcastically. "I'll take it easy on him."

"Quite frankly," Snape said. "I don't give a damn about him. If he gets hurt, he'll survive. What I don't want is to watch you go through a series of . . . replacements, allowing each one to take a little piece of your soul."

Sera sighed. "I know," she admitted. "I don't want to be like my mother."

Snape stiffened at the mention of his sister. They'd never really talked about her, about the mistakes she'd made concerning her daughter and the life she'd forced her to live before her death. "Your mother?" he repeated.

"She used men," Sera told him simply. "Took what she could from them and then threw them away. Assuming they hadn't grown tired of her addiction before she could squeeze every last drop of money and compassion from them. She was very pretty. Men fell for her. Hard. She could get them to do anything she wanted."

Sera's circuit of the room had brought her to behind Snape's desk, studying the creepy things he had floating in jars on a shelf. She tapped on one of the jars, trying to get the attention of the three-legged occupant floating inside before realizing it was dead.

"Well, you certainly inherited her physical beauty, and we know that you can make members of the opposite sex fall hard for you," Snape pointed out.

"Maybe, but I obviously can't make them do anything I want, can I?" she asked bitterly.

Snape turned to face her. "Sera, do you really think that if you had insisted on maintaining a relationship with Potter that he wouldn't have acceded to that wish? He was besotted with you. That was written so plainly on his face that I was a fool not to have seen it before . . . before you revealed it to me so glaringly. He would have given up everything for you. He did, for a time. It's one of the few things I admire about him, actually."

"But I didn't insist, did I?" she asked. "I just went along with your plan to save the world!"

Snape turned back to the work on his desk. "You did the right thing," he assured her. "You'll realize that soon enough."

Sera snorted in disbelief again.

"I . . . I'm sorry about your mother. The way she was. The way she treated you. I should have been there for you."

"You're here for me now," Sera said, coming to stand behind him, both hands on his shoulders, and resting a cheek on top of his head, neither of them noticing or caring that she was dripping on him. "That's all that really matters to me, Uncle Sev."

Snape's breath caught in his throat. No one had called him that since Lily, a very long time ago. He put a hand on top of hers and squeezed it gently. "Be careful with the Wood boy," he advised.

Sera sighed. "I will." She kissed Snape quickly on top of the head. "I'm going to bed now. Do you need to escort me across the hall?"

"No. I can see you from here. Good night, Sera."

"Good night, Uncle. Don't stay up too late," she admonished.

##########

The next time Sera saw Jamie, she sat him down for a straightforward conversation. She did like him, and she didn't want to hurt him if she could avoid it.

"I wanted to make something perfectly plain to you up front," she told him. "I like you, but I don't know if I can ever think of you as more than a friend. I get the feeling that you're interested in . . . more, and I don't want to disappoint you or hurt you in any way."

Jamie seemed taken aback at her directness, and it took him a moment to marshal his thoughts, but then he said, "I understand that you probably have bad feelings because of the way your relationship ended with Harry. And I know that it hasn't been very long since he left you."

Sera had to protest. "Harry didn't _leave_ me. We decided, together, that it was for the best."

"I like Harry," he assured her, "but he got you into a situation and then . . .left you. However that ended up happening." Jamie clearly wanted to believe that Harry had been at fault and had treated her badly. Harry had his detractors, although Jamie wasn't really one of them, and there were some that thought Harry had treated her abominably – getting her pregnant and bringing her here, only to end the relationship so quickly after she lost the baby. Harry had actually heard these whispers and agreed with them to some extent. It was apparent to Sera that word of the memory charm had not gotten out, and everyone assumed that Harry and Sera had just parted ways.

Sera wanted to defend him, but didn't know how she could do that without revealing the fact that Harry's memory had been altered. Harry had no knowledge of that, and she didn't want it to become general public knowledge. She still loved Harry just as much as ever and though it was difficult, she wanted him to be happy, even if that meant being with someone else.

"I just want you to know that I'll be here, waiting, when you decide that you're over Harry Potter and ready to move on with your life." And he leaned in to kiss her. And she let him. And she was surprised to discover that kissing someone other than Harry Potter could be almost as enjoyable as the real thing.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

A rather short one, to get us through to the final two chapters . . .

23 _Continuum_

True to his word, Jamie continued to "court" Sera, for lack of a better word. He visited her rooms almost every day, sometimes only for a few minutes to say hello, sometimes for longer. Sera continued to teach him the fundamentals of basketball, and he was tactful enough to never tell her that the game didn't measure up to quidditch. Jamie was quite athletic, and he picked the game up quickly (much more quickly than Harry, who had never really mastered even a set shot) and became competition for her, which she enjoyed. _He _enjoyed the physical contact he had with her under the pretext of the game. And she laughed for the first time in ages at Jamie's dismay after an elbow to the face gave her a messy bloody nose.

They'd progressed to the point where they shared a brief, almost chaste kiss good night when he left her, when Jamie decided he wanted to try to take their relationship to the next level – he was going to ask her out. As he left her rooms one evening, he saw Professor Snape through his open door working away at his desk. Snape had looked up at the sound of Sera's door opening, as he always did, but didn't give Wood a second thought when he saw it was him.

Jamie screwed up his courage, crossed the hall to the door, and knocked twice on the door frame. "Professor Snape, may I have a brief word with you, sir?" he asked.

Snape looked up at him, his cold black eyes staring into the young man's hazel eyes. This was a test. If the boy could pass it, he would take a step up in Snape's estimation (albeit a very small step).

Jamie passed. Though his knees were shaking, he refused to drop his gaze, and finally Snape said, "You may."

"Thank you, sir," Jamie said, his knees weak with relief as he made his way toward Snape's desk. Snape did not invite him to sit.

"Sir, I would like to take Sera to dinner. In the Great Hall. Tomorrow night."

Snape stared up at him. "You realize why my niece is confined to her rooms?"

"Yes, sir. She's explained to me that you feel that she is safest there."

Snape arched an eyebrow at him. "Do you disagree, Mr. Wood?"

Jamie hesitated. "No, sir, not really. I do think that if she is properly escorted, she can be just as safe out in the castle."

"And you feel you are a . . . proper escort?"

Jamie stared Snape straight in the eye. "Yes, sir, I do. I like your niece. I would do anything to protect her."

Snape's sneer told Jamie that he didn't believe that Jamie could protect her from a renegade glow-worm let alone anything as dangerous as a Death Eater or a Slytherin bent on hexing an unwanted Muggle in their midst. "'Anything', Mr. Wood? Would you be willing to die for Serafina?"

It seemed a dramatic question, and Jamie wasn't sure if he was supposed to take it seriously, so he didn't answer right away.

"I see that possibility has never occurred to you," Snape said before Jamie could speak. "Well, it occurs to _me. _Every day."

Now that Jamie had had a chance to think about it, he drew himself up as tall as he could. "I _would _be willing to die for her, sir. I should not like to have the opportunity to prove that, though."

That was actually a decent answer, and Snape had to give him a point for it. He sat back in his chair, thinking. Sera would probably like the opportunity to get out of her rooms for a bit. Spending time with Wood seemed to be bringing her slowly out of the gloom she'd settled into after the Potter debacle ended. Snape himself would be in the Great Hall at dinner time, as would Dumbledore, Hagrid, and Potter and his friends, who would be sitting with Sera at the Gryffindor table. Minus Dobby, that accounted for all of Sera's "security detail". If she were going to go out and mingle in the castle, he figured there was no safer time and place for her.

"Very well, Mr. Wood," he said. "You may escort my niece to dinner in the Great Hall tomorrow. You will take her directly there, and once you have finished eating, you will bring her directly back here. There will be no sight-seeing, no side trips, no stops for any reason. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Jamie agreed at once, smiling in his surprise that Professor Snape was actually going to let him do this. Also in his surprise, he forgot to turn around and leave.

"You may go now, Mr. Wood," Snape told him.

"Oh, yes sir. And thank you, sir! I'll just go ask Sera now."

Feeling more than a little like an idiot, Jamie turned on his heel, nearly tripped over a stack of books on the floor, recovered, and strode from the room with as much of his dignity intact as he could manage. He crossed the hall and knocked on Sera's door.

"Jamie! Did you forget something?"

"No. I just wanted to ask you if you'd like to join me in the Great Hall for dinner tomorrow night."

"You know I can't do that, Jamie," Sera told him.

"I asked your uncle," Jamie whispered, smiling widely. "He said you could."

Sera's eyes flew open in surprise, and she looked across the hall at her uncle, who nodded at her once, then returned to his work.

"So what do you say?" Jamie asked.

"I say yes! Thank you, Jamie!" And she hugged him and kissed him, a longer and much more interesting kiss than any they'd shared to date.

When she pulled away from him, Jamie looked as though he'd been hit in the head with a bludger. His eyes were unfocused, and he seemed to be having a hard time concentrating on what to say or do next.

"So what time will you pick me up?"

"Huh? What time . . .? Oh! Yes! I'll pick you up at five."

"Until five, then," Sera said. "Good night, Jamie."

"Good night, Sera," Jamie said, and he began to walk down the hall, his hand to his mouth, as though he could still feel her lips there. Instead of turning the corner, he walked straight into the wall and nearly fell over backward, but caught himself just in time. Flushed with embarrassment, he looked back to see if Sera had been watching. She was, and she giggled and waved. Jamie waved back, his head cleared by the collision, and moved more quickly away.

Sera noticed her uncle staring at her, his disapproval obvious. Apparently he didn't like her kissing _any _boy, not just Harry. Oh well. She wasn't going to let him dampen her good mood – she hadn't been in one for a very long time. She blew a kiss at him and went inside to start figuring out what to wear to dinner tomorrow night.

##########

The following day found Harry in Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Snape. They'd reverted to their former adversarial selves in this class, with Harry getting detention on the very first day after joining the class from which he'd been absent for weeks while he was "on the run" with Serafina. Despite the advances they seemed to have made over the summer, there was no getting around the fact that they just didn't like each other and apparently never would. Now that they didn't even have Sera to pretend for, things were right back where they'd been before they'd met her. Maybe worse.

"Potter, you'll stay after class and clean that up," Snape ordered after one of Harry's attempts to stupefy Hermione had been deflected into a nearby bookcase, scattering the contents onto the floor.

Harry sighed, and then literally bit his tongue to keep from responding. They were working on shield spells, and several others had had hexes go bouncing awry and knock things over or break things entirely (one student's spell had actually sent a book flying into the back of Snape's head), but none of them had received an order to stay behind and clean up or any other type of punishment. He really hated Snape, and the next stupefy spell he sent at Hermione had more force than normal, and her shield only just held. By the end of the class, Harry was ready to hurl a spell at Snape, just for the sheer satisfaction of it. Only the thought of having to spend the rest of his life in detention with the detested man made him hold back.

After everyone else had traipsed out of the room, Harry went moodily to the bookcase and began to place the books back, paying absolutely no attention to whether they were right side up or backwards.

"Never mind that, Potter," Snape ordered.

Harry looked up. Snape had made him stay behind to pick the books up, now he didn't want him to pick the books up? Damn the man! Harry ignored him and returned the rest of the books to the shelf. When he finished, he stood up and returned to his desk to retrieve his things.

"I wanted to ask you something," Snape said.

Harry stood, waiting, wondering what he was going to be accused of now.

"I wanted to ask you . . . about Jamie Wood."

Harry showed his surprise at this question. "Jamie Wood? My chaser?"

"The same," Snape confirmed. "He's been . . . showing an interest in Sera. I just wondered what you thought of him."

Snape wanted his opinion about something? This was unprecedented. "He's not quite as good at chaser as his brother was at keeper."

"An evaluation of his quidditch skills wasn't really what I was looking for," Snape said drily.

"Oh. Of course not. He's a decent bloke. I knew his brother better than I know him. His brother was top shelf. I have no reason to think that Jamie's any different. He and Sera are . . .?"

Snape nodded. "He's asked to take her to dinner in the Great Hall tonight."

"And you said . . .?"

"I gave him permission."

"You never let _me _take her to dinner!" Harry said, outraged. He'd asked many times and had always been denied.

"She was too new here then. And then the two of you . . . went your separate ways."

"Well, good," Harry said. "I'm happy for her. He's a good bloke. He'll be good to her."

"I'd like it if you . . . could keep an eye on her as well. At dinner tonight."

"You think someone might try something?"

"I simply don't know. I'll be there, of course, and Professor Dumbledore, but if you could just keep near, be alert . . . I'd feel better knowing . . ."

"Somehow I don't think that Wood will be thrilled to have Sera's old boyfriend hovering over her shoulder."

"You don't have to 'hover'. Just . . . pay attention. Will you do it?"

"Of course, I'll do it. For Sera," he pointed out, making sure Snape understood he wasn't doing Snape any favors. But if it was for Sera . . .

"Thank you," Snape said.

"You're welcome. May I go now? Sir?"

Snape nodded his dismissal.

##########

Sera was wowed by the Great Hall, dressed in its Christmas finery. She held tightly to Jamie's hand as he escorted her into the hall, trusting him to guide her as her eyes jumped from the bewitched ceiling to each of the dozen Christmas trees, to the ghosts flitting happily about, animated by Christmas spirit.

Jamie led her to the end of the Gryffindor table nearest the table where Dumbledore and the professors sat, figuring that Snape would be most appreciative of being able to keep a closer eye on his niece. Sera spotted her uncle and waved vigorously at him. He smiled thinly in response and nodded at Jamie. As soon as they'd sat down, Hermione dropped into the seat next to her, Ron into the seat across from Hermione, and Harry into the seat across from Sera.

Sera looked at the three of them, smiling at her knowingly, and then turned to look at her uncle. He gave her a little shrug, acknowledging that she'd figured out he'd asked them to keep an eye on her, then looked away.

Sera shrugged, too. She was too happy to be here to let this bother her. Jamie looked just a little disgruntled when Harry sat opposite Sera, but he cheered up quickly, as soon as the food arrived.

Food! Sera had never seen anything like it! Where did one start when there were endless opportunities?

Dinner had been wonderful, the company had been fun, and she and Jamie were walking slowly back to her rooms, holding hands. Sera felt like a stuffed turkey. And she felt happier than she had in a long time. "I don't think I've ever eaten so much. Do you eat like that every day?"

Jamie nodded. "Was it hard? Having Harry there?"

"No," Sera said, and she was surprised to find she almost meant it. "He's . . . a friend. Like Ron and Hermione. And you."

"Am I still just a friend, then?" he asked, disappointed, looking down at his feet, trying not to sound like a disappointed little boy. He _had _told her he'd wait, and he'd meant it. Even if it was difficult.

Sera tipped his chin up with her finger, then leaned in to give him a kiss. It was a nice kiss, full of promise, and it warmed up his insides more than the spicy curry he'd eaten for dinner. "Maybe a bit more than a friend," she amended after she'd let him go. "Would you like to come in?"

He hadn't realized they were at her door, but he nodded mutely and followed her inside.

##########

The Great Hall was much emptier on Christmas day than it had been on Sera's prior visit here. Most of the students had gone home for the holidays, along with a good deal of the staff. Harry was spending the break with the Weasleys after a quick trip to Privet Drive to keep his protection in force after having not been there at the end of the summer holiday, as Dumbledore had planned. Hermione and Jamie had both gone home to their families.

Jamie had been very reluctant to leave. After their "date" in the Great Hall, Sera had taken Jamie back into her room, and they'd made love in her bed before a crackling fire. Jamie thought he'd been transported to heaven and only left her bed at midnight when Sera forced him to, afraid he'd get into trouble if he was caught out of his bed all night. After he'd left, Sera had cried for an hour, feelings of guilt crushing her, sure she'd only invited Jamie in because she missed Harry still and Jamie was a convenient replacement. It was just like her uncle had said would happen, and she felt horrible. She'd tried to apologize to Jamie the following day, without explaining exactly what she was apologizing for for fear of hurting his feelings, but he would have none of it. He was more in love with her now than he had ever been, and he didn't regret what they'd done one bit, and he told her so. He also told her that if she didn't want to do it again, that was fine. Sera resolved in her own mind that she would not invite him to stay again until she was sure beyond any doubt that it was Jamie she wanted. But try as she might, she couldn't stop herself from thinking how nice it had been to be with someone again, and she hoped she'd be able to keep her resolve when Jamie returned from Christmas break, where she had forced him to go with threats of what she might do to him if he tried to disappoint his family because of her.

Left behind at Hogwart's, with no place else to go, were Professors Snape, McGonagall and Flitwick and Sera, Hagrid, and three students whom Sera did not know. They sat all together at one small table in the Great Hall and partook of the best the house elves were able to produce for the occasion. Despite the holiday and the festive decorations in the Great Hall, the mood was almost somber as they ate, and Sera was happy when the meal was over and she was able to retire to her rooms, where she listened to Christmas music and played with Lenni and, for the first time since she'd left it, missed her birthplace.

On the day after Christmas, with the grounds deserted, Sera and Snape ventured out across the snow to the Black Lake, where Sera ice skated, something she'd done every winter on the lake since returning to live with her grandmother. She tried with all her persuasive powers to get her uncle out there with her, but he would not be convinced. He did, however, give in to her begging and helped her build a snowman out on the training grounds. They stole one of Professor Sprout's black pointy hats from the Herbology greenhouse for their creation, and Snape found a discarded Ravenclaw scarf in the lost and found box, which they wrapped around its neck. Sera broke branches off a nearby tree to use as arms, and she made a sign that said "Welcome to Hogwart's", which she attached to one of its arms. They traipsed down to Hagrid's hut, and Sera talked him into giving up a mismatched pair of his very large shoes, which she half buried in the snow beneath their snowman.

As a coup de grace, she got a picture of Snape with the snowman, using the camera he'd given her for Christmas. She'd had to race back to the castle after he discovered she'd taken his picture, Snape hot on her trail and threatening her with dire consequences if she didn't turn over the camera immediately. She was in much better shape than he was, though, and she made it safely back to her room and had the camera hidden before he barged in, out of breath and scowling, pretending to be ferociously angry with her.

Sera made dinner in her rooms that night for her uncle, Hagrid, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick and the three other lost souls, giving the house elves the night off. After everyone else had gone, Sera confessed to her uncle what she'd done with Jamie and how she felt about it. Talking about this subject with his sixteen-year old niece made Snape visibly uncomfortable, but he heard her out, tried not to be judgmental, and told her she was doing the right thing with regard to Wood. Confession really was good for the soul, Sera thought afterward, because she felt as though a weight had been lifted from her heart.

That weight settled back down when she discovered the drawing of Hedwig she'd made in the first month she'd been here. She'd meant to give it to Harry for Christmas, and she'd tucked it into the back of a drawer for safekeeping and then forgotten it was there. But she found it now, and it made her feel like crying. But she raised her chin and refused to let the tears come.

It was a good day, one of the best both Sera and Snape had had in a very long time.

##########

Early March brought signs that winter was finally loosening its grip on the landscape. Snow was melting, and the sun's rays were a little warmer and lasted a little longer each day.

Early March also brought Sera to her first quidditch game. Jamie had invited her, with Snape's permission, and she sat next to her uncle in the teacher's section. Quidditch was just as exciting as Jamie and Harry had both told her, and although she was ostensibly there to support Jamie, her eyes hardly ever left Harry as he swooped and rolled and rode around as though he were the king of the sky, marshaling his troops, braying at them when necessary. She jumped to her feet, as did everyone else, when Harry's own teammate pelted a bludger into the back of Harry's head, and she actually screamed when she saw Harry tumble from his broomstick, apparently unconscious. She gripped her uncle's arm tightly and held her breath until Jamie and another of his teammates caught him before he plummeted all the way to the ground.

After Snape returned her to her room, she insisted that he go immediately to the hospital wing to learn whether Harry had lived or died or would suffer any permanent damage from his injuries, and she didn't really relax until he brought her the news that Harry would live, apparently unscathed.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

24 _Endings_

And mid June brought the end of life as she knew it, as they all knew it.

When she opened the door one evening to admit her uncle, she could tell instantly that something was wrong. He looked harried, worried, anxious. "What's the matter?" she asked.

"I need you to sit down. There are some things I have to explain to you, and we don't have much time."

Sera immediately sat on her sofa. Snape didn't sit, needing the freedom to pace.

"Events are transpirng here at Hogwart's, events that have been set into motion long before now, but they will culminate tonight in terrible things, and I need you to understand before I go."

"Go?" she asked, bewildered. "Where are you going?"

"I'll have to leave here tonight, Sera. I must . . . do something I do not want to do, and I will not be able to stay here once I've done it."

Sera was completely confused. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Snape sat opposite her. "I'll start at the beginning. Many, many years ago, I was a student of the dark arts. When the Dark Lord started his rise to power, I . . . was foolish enough to follow him. I was a Death Eater." He pulled up his sleeve and showed her the ugly mark on his arm. Sera winced. She'd never seen the tattoo before, and it seemed . . . evil somehow and looked like it must be painful just to have on the skin.

"When I learned that the Dark Lord intended to kill James and Lily Potter's only child, in order to fulfill a prophecy made about that child, I found my loyalty to him waning. You know how I felt about Lily. I warned Dumbledore about the danger to the Potters. He was unable to prevent their deaths, but, as you know, the child survived. I then became a double agent of sorts. The Dark Lord believes that I am fully in his service and have been living here as a spy since that time. I have been feeding him information, nothing that he could use to complete his plan to kill the Potter child, but enough so that he believed I was truly on his side. And I've been helping Dumbledore to keep Potter alive since that time."

Sera's mouth hung open in horror. "But I thought Voldemort was so powerful? How could he not know you were betraying him?"

Snape started at her use of the name. "I've asked you not to use that name. I have had a great deal of practice with occlumency. Do you know what that is?"

Harry had explained it once, a long time ago. She nodded.

"I have been able to fool him all these years. Some of his followers have mistrusted me, but he has remained convinced that I serve only him."

"So what's happening tonight?"

"Tonight I'm going to kill Dumbledore," he said simply, as though telling her he planned to take a walk around the grounds after dinner.

"What?" Sera asked, covering her mouth in horror. "You can't!"

"He's dying, Sera," Snape explained. "He was badly injured several months ago."

"His hand," Sera guessed. They'd all seen Dumbledore's blackened, wasted hand.

"Yes," Snape confirmed. "Even he, great as he is, cannot survive this. He came to me some time ago and asked that I . . . when the time was right, that I . . ." Snape needed to back up a bit. "The Dark Lord has provided Draco Malfoy with the task of killing Dumbledore. I made an unbreakable vow with Draco's mother that I would assist him, and if he was unable to complete that task, that I would do it for him."

"Uncle!" Sera said, shocked. Did she know him at all?

"It was necessary, Sera. Had I not done so, Draco's aunt would have known that I was not what I was purporting to be. The Dark Lord would have become aware of her suspicions, and I have no doubt that I would have been killed. But I'd already told Dumbledore I would . . . I'd already promised Dumbledore, in any event."

Snape took a deep breath. Before Sera had come into his life, he probably wouldn't have minded the end of his own life quite so much as he did now. He continued, knowing time was growing short. "I don't think that Draco will be able to kill Dumbledore. He is, however, going to let several Death Eaters into the castle tonight, and if he cannot do the job, then one of them certainly will. As I said, Dumbledore extracted my promise that I would not let Draco kill him, that I would do it myself, to prevent damage to the boy's soul . . ."

"And you can do that?"

"Sera, he's dying. He doesn't have much time left. And if I can protect Potter from harm by doing this . . ."

"Wait a minute! How is Harry in danger?!"

"Potter and the Headmaster are right now, as we speak, on a mission, the details of which I am not familiar with myself. When they come back, a very short time from now, Draco will have allowed the Death Eaters entry into the school. If Potter is with Dumbledore when the Death Eaters find him, they will kill Potter as well, or at least capture him to bring him back for the Dark Lord to dispose of. I hope, by my stepping in, to be able to protect Potter. I do not know if it will work. I do not know if Potter will keep out of the way. He has a bit of a hero complex, in case you hadn't noticed. But I hope that my presence will prevent him from over-reacting."

Sera felt tears starting behind her eyes. Dumbledore dying, about to be killed? Harry in danger? Her uncle, a murderer? "What then?" she whispered. "Harry will kill you!"

"I'm hoping to avoid that, too," Snape said drily.

"Does Harry know? About Dumbledore?"

Snape shook his head in the negative. "The Headmaster decided that he had enough to worry about. He does not know that Dumbledore is dying. He does not know that I have promised to do the unforgivable. He will only know that I have killed his mentor. And he will hate me then more than he does even now. Even Dumbledore doesn't know that the Death Eaters are on their way as we speak. I was not given any more advance warning."

"Can't you tell them? Can't you tell Harry why you're doing this?"

"There won't be time. Events are transpiring much too quickly for quiet conversations."

"But what will you do . . . after? Assuming Harry doesn't kill you?"

"I'll have to leave with the others, with the Death Eaters."

It finally sunk in why her uncle was telling her all this. "You're leaving me?"

Snape reached over and took her hand. "I truly wish there were some other way. If I don't do this, there is every reason to expect that Potter will die tonight."

"Where will you go?"

"That I do not know. But after killing Dumbledore, I will be welcomed into the circle of the Dark Lord's supporters like never before. They have wanted him dead for years."

"When will I see you again?" she whispered.

"I don't know." He removed a large brown envelope from beneath his robe and handed it to her. "There is a bank book in here. There is an account with a bank in London, set up in your name. In that account are the proceeds from the sale of your grandmother's house. I intended to provide you with the funds once you were old enough to leave here, if you ever wanted to do so. There is enough here to sustain you for a very long time." Her grandmother had owned over two hundred acres of pristine forest land, and the proceeds from the sale had been considerable.

"Shouldn't this rightfully belong to my father?"

She took the envelope from him, but she threw it on the couch. She didn't want the money – she wanted her uncle. She wanted none of this to be happening.

"The attorney handling your grandmother's estate attempted to find him for that very reason. Your father is dead. He died some time before your mother. There are details in there, if you're interested. I'm sorry."

"Not much of a loss to me, is it?" Although it sort of felt like one, just the same. But she had more pressing concerns at the moment – another thought had occurred to her. "Will I have to leave here? If you're gone?" She swiped at tears that escaped down her cheek.

"I don't think so. You must make certain they understand that you had no knowledge of what was going to happen, that you had nothing to do with it. Potter and the others will be angry. I hope that they will not transfer that anger to you, but I cannot guarantee they will not. Keep your head down. Stay close to Hagrid and to Wood and to Minerva. They will protect you. And whatever else you do, do not leave this room, under any circumstances, tonight. You are safe here."

He was not completely sure that the Dark Lord and his supporters did not know about his connection with this girl, and he didn't want them to find out now, if things went badly tonight. In the end, Potter had to survive, even if Snape's position was compromised. "Promise me that you will stay here."

After she nodded, Snape stood up. It was time for him to go. "I pray that I will see you again some day, Serafina, but if I do not . . . please know how very much I have come to love you over the last few months and how much I wish we could have more time together."

Sera jumped to her feet and launched herself into her uncle's arms. "Can't I tell Harry? When this is all over? Can't I tell him why?"

Snape pushed her away slightly, so that he could look into her eyes. He took her face gently in his hands. "No, child. Dumbledore wanted it this way. He had his reasons. You have to promise me you will not tell Potter. He may figure it out some day on his own, but he cannot learn of it now. Do you promise?"

"I don't want to!"

"Sera, this is very important."

"I promise," she said, hugging him again. "I love you, Uncle."

"And I love you. Now I must go, or it may be too late for Potter. Remember, stay here, and don't say a word. To anyone."

"I promise," she said, and he was gone.

##########

A week later, Harry showed up at her door.

She hadn't left her rooms since that awful night. She'd been visited twice by Hagrid, who had appeared as shocked and grief-stricken as he was the night of Dumbledore's death. He'd come to make sure that Sera was all right, and she knew her uncle's advice that she stick close to Hagrid was sound. He hadn't been able to talk much either time he'd visited, seeming on the verge of tears at every moment, and he'd been good enough not to mention her uncle's role in the horrible proceedings, but his visits and his concern made it clear to her that he was not in any way associating her with her uncle's deed, and for that she was grateful.

She'd also been visited daily by Jamie Wood. He, too, seemed to be in shock about the Headmaster's death, but he made sure she understood that, whatever Snape had done, his love for her had not changed. Yes, he told her, he loved her, because he would be leaving for the summer soon, and their imminent parting and Dumbledore's shocking death had made him evaluate his life. He didn't want to leave with her not knowing exactly how he felt. He promised that he would find a way for them to get together over the summer, because the thought of not seeing her for that many weeks wasn't something he wanted to contemplate. She did not tell Jamie she loved him, too, but she was beginning to wonder if maybe she did. The thought that maybe some day she _could _love him was very heartening to her. As little as a month ago, she was convinced that she could love no one other than Harry Potter. Maybe she was finally moving beyond her first love into the next portion of her life. That thought both cheered her and saddened her just a little.

Aside from these two visitors, and Dobby bringing her food and news, no one had come to see Sera.

And then _he _showed up at her door. "Harry," she said after opening the door, surprised to find him there.

"Sera. May I come in?" His greeting was neither warm nor overtly cold. If he was transferring the blame for what her uncle had done onto her, she couldn't see it. Not yet anyway.

"Of course," she said, opening the door wider.

"How are you?" she asked after she'd closed the door.

"I'm all right," he said.

They might as well get this right out there, she thought. "I'm so sorry about Dumbledore, Harry. I know how much you loved him."

Harry looked at her then, the grief, still so fresh, threatening to spill out of his eyes. But along with the grief, there was anger and a grim determination. "Yeah, me, too. Listen, I just wanted to make sure that you were . . . okay here since . . . I wanted to make sure you were okay on your own." He looked away. He seemed to want this conversation over with quickly, so she obliged with the stock answer that he had used himself on so many occasions, one that would allow him to escape quickly if he'd only come here out of some sense of obligation.

"I'm fine," she said.

"What are you going to do?"

"Do? I'm not going to _do _anything. What _should _I do?"

"I dunno. I thought maybe you'd . . . feel uncomfortable here now."

"Do you think I should leave?" He didn't answer her, and she asked, more loudly, "Harry, do you think I should leave?"

He looked at her again. "I don't know how you could stand to stay here."

"I haven't done anything wrong," she pointed out.

"I know that. But your . . . he . . . how could he do it, Sera?! Dumbledore trusted him! And he . . . he killed him, just like he was nothing!" Harry's voice broke, and he whirled away from her, trying to contain the anger that filled him so that it wouldn't come roaring out at her.

"I know," Sera said, her heart aching for him. How badly she wanted to tell him! Would he even believe her if she told him now? Or would he think she was making it all up to remove the blame for this terrible crime from her only living relative? "I wish . . . I wish I could explain to you why he did what he did. But I can't." She also wished that she could take him into her arms and soothe the pain away, and now she wondered if she really was ready to move on. It was easier to think so when she never saw him.

He didn't answer her, and she asked him again, more quietly this time. "Harry, do you think I should leave here?"

"I dunno." He turned to face her again. "I'm trying really hard not to blame you. I _know _it's not your fault and there's nothing you could have done to stop this. But I'm having a really hard time . . . the _hate _is just so . . ."

"I know," she whispered. She had known he would feel this way. Her uncle had known, too.

"I wish he had killed me, too," Harry said bitterly. "There was a moment there, when he could have. I wish he'd done it."

"Harry, don't say that!" This had all been about protecting Harry Potter. Everything that had happened had been designed to keep him alive. He had no idea of the sacrifice her uncle had made for him, and she couldn't tell him, but she wasn't going to let him wish his life away.

"Well, you can bet that if I'd been able, I would have killed _him_!" Harry said, a gleam in his eye as though he was imagining his next meeting with Severus Snape. One of them wouldn't walk away from that meeting.

"I understand," Sera said. "More than you think."

All of the anger seemed to leave Harry at once, and he slumped his shoulders and almost hissed as it dissipated. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lay all this on you. I know you've got enough to deal with now." He took a step closer to her, and took one of her hands. "If you _would _like to leave, to get away from here, I'll help you," he said sincerely. And now she was quite sure that he really was offering to help her and not trying to get rid of her as the reminder of her uncle's treachery.

"Where would I go?" she asked simply, squeezing his hand gently.

"I dunno. You could go back home. We could work it out, if that's what you wanted to do. Maybe you could try to find your dad."

"My father is dead," she told him.

"Oh? When did you find that out?" He let go of her hand, surprised.

"A short time ago," she said, not wanting to mention that her uncle had told her just after he'd confessed what he was about to do.

"When? How?"

"That's not really important right now, is it? I think I'd like to stay here. Hagrid has told me that he'll be around here this summer and that he'd like to have the company. And since I really don't have anywhere else to go . . . It'll be easier once all of the students have left. You must be leaving yourself shortly?"

Harry nodded. "I won't be coming back."

"You're not coming back to school? Harry, why?!"

"There's something I have to do."

"You're not going after my uncle, are you?"

"No, it's not that. It's a job that Dumbledore gave me that I must finish."

Sera guessed it must have something to do with the "mission" that Dumbledore and Harry had been on the night of the Headmaster's death, but she didn't press for details. "Is it dangerous?"

"Yes," Harry told her.

"Will you be careful?"

"Yes," he said. "But, Sera, you have to know that if I run into your uncle somewhere along the way . . ."

She looked into his eyes and nodded. "I understand. But maybe, if you get the chance, you could just give him a minute to explain himself."

"What difference would his explanations make? Dumbledore will still be dead!"

Sera shrugged. "You never know. Might make all the difference in the world."

Harry doubted there was one single explanation that Snape could offer that would make the slightest difference in his opinion of the man, but he didn't say so. And he wasn't going to make any promises that he had no intention of keeping.

"Is Ginny going with you?" Sera asked.

"No. Ron and Hermione are. Ginny and I have broken up. She's in danger, being with me."

Sera studied him, to see if he seemed to be experiencing any sort of deja vu with regard to the reason for his breakup with Ginny, but there was nothing there to make her think he remembered the reason for his breakup with Sera. "I'm sorry," she said.

"It was for the best."

"Do you ever get tired of doing things that are for the best?" she wondered aloud quietly.

"Sometimes," he admitted, and the way he was looking at her now made her rethink her earlier opinion that he didn't remember about them. "Anyway, I just wanted to check in on you before I left, to make sure you were okay and that there wasn't anything I could do for you before I go."

"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. You take care of yourself. And Ron and Hermione."

"I will." He prepared to take his leave, but he stopped next to her as he made his way to the door. "Sera, I . . ." He reached over and took her hand again.

"Yes, Harry?"

"I think I will always love you," he said, and he leaned in to kiss her. He meant it to be a chaste good-bye kiss, a "take care of yourself" kiss between friends, but it quickly became something much more reminiscent of the kisses they used to share. It was Sera that ended it, but she didn't pull away completely. She rested her forehead against his and raised a hand to his face, rubbing her thumb against his cheek. He leaned into her hand, seemingly unwilling to break the contact, until she pulled it away, kissed him on the forehead, and said, "Don't you have a world to save? Go."

And he went, without a backward glance at her.

##########

Almost a year later . . .

The thought of his bed was the only thing that kept Harry's feet moving. He'd been tired before, but never had he experienced this bone-crushing, soul-wearying, all-encompassing exhaustion. Every bit of adrenalin that had seen him through the final battle with Voldemort had worn off, and he wasn't sure how he'd stayed on his feet this long. He hurt, he was tired, he was hungry. He wasn't sure if he needed to eat before he slept, or if he should sleep before he ate – he seemed incapable of even the most basic decisions at the moment.

He'd started on his journey wearing the invisibility cloak, not wanting to meet anyone who might deter him from his bed, but it became quickly apparent that the castle proper was empty except for him, and he removed it, dragging it behind him as he went. Some of the portrait people were beginning to return, however, and they hailed him and congratulated him and applauded him as he went. For the most part, he ignored them, but a small part of his very tired brain thought what a marvel this was – paintings that could move and talk and think independently. It was just one of the many things he'd come to take for granted during his time here. It hadn't always been that way, though, had it?

His feet continued to climb automatically (why were there so many damned stairs, he wondered? Maybe they should think about installing a lift in this place.) He remembered his first day here and his awe at everything around him. That memory led him to another – someone he'd brought here, someone who'd experienced the same amazement at the portraits and the ghosts and the staircases – and his feet stopped suddenly, only one floor short of his intended destination.

Sera. She didn't know. About her uncle. What he'd done. He had to tell her. Was she even still here? He'd had no contact with her for nearly a year. It was possible she'd moved on, although that was less likely after Snape had been appointed Headmaster, he supposed. His own needs would have to wait. He owed Sera this much.

He turned around and began to descend the same stairs he'd just climbed.

##########

Harry knocked on her door and waited. When he received no answer, he knocked again, more loudly this time. Maybe she _had _gone. Maybe Snape had gotten her out of here earlier in the year, knowing that the castle was filled with Death Eaters. He had to be sure though, and he put his hand on the doorknob, remembering what Snape had told him he'd be able to do if something happened. Sure enough, the knob turned in his hand. He pushed the door open to find Sera slumped sideways on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, asleep.

"Sera," he said, not wanting to startle her. When she didn't respond, he took another step closer and said her name again.

Sera's eyes opened, and she sat up quickly. "Harry!" she shouted. She leapt at him, pulled him into the room, slammed the door shut, and hugged him fiercely as though she might never let him go. In her desperation, she didn't seem to find it strange that he'd been able to open the door from the outside.

He held onto her tightly, his eyes closed, resting his head on her shoulder, partly glad to see her, partly to keep from falling over in his exhaustion.

"I heard . . ." Sera was sobbing now, "him . . . and I was afraid that you . . . and I didn't know what . . . and no one's come in forever . . ."

"Okay," Harry said, soothingly. "It's okay. It's over."

She pulled away from him. "It's over? He's . . . gone?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Voldemort is dead."

"You?"

Again, Harry nodded. "Can we sit down?" Before he fell down, Harry didn't add.

She remained on her feet, too keyed up to sit. As Harry sat, she studied him. Fatigue was etched into every line of his face. His hair was long, reaching almost down to his shoulders. And he needed a shave. He looked ten years older than when she'd last seen him. With her usual bluntness, she told him so.

"Really? That's not too bad, then, because I _feel _twenty years older."

"Harry, you didn't by any chance see Jamie anywhere, did you?"

Harry shook his head. "No. There were so many people . . . they came from everywhere," he said, still marveling over the fact that so many had come to their aid. "It was very chaotic. I saw his brother, Oliver. You haven't heard from him?"

"Not for," she checked her watch, "about three hours now. He stopped in a couple of times during the night. I could hear the sounds of the battle. And I could hear that awful voice, telling everyone that he wanted you. And I knew you'd go to him. You did, didn't you?"

Harry nodded, but didn't explain further. He couldn't. Not now.

"I've just been sitting here, waiting for someone to come. Jamie or Uncle – but _you _came! How can I find out about Jamie?"

"We'll see about that in a bit. Sera, I –"

"Is everyone else okay? Ron, Hermione –"

"Ron and Hermione are fine. Sera, I –"

"Can I get you something to eat?" she interrupted once again. She could see that he needed to tell her something, something she didn't want to hear. And if she didn't let him get it out, whatever it was, it wouldn't be real. "You must be famished. Why don't I make you a sandwich and then you can get some rest."

Harry stood up now and took her hand. He had to make her understand. "Sera . . ."

"Is it Uncle?" she asked in a whisper.

Harry nodded. "I'm so sorry."

"Was it you?" She had to know.

Harry shook his head. "No. I never had the chance. Voldemort killed him."

Sera felt the floor disappearing beneath her feet. Her knees weakened, unable now to hold her weight, and she collapsed, a great sob escaping from her chest. Harry knelt beside her, stroking her back as she curled up around her pain, howling with the grief that just couldn't be contained. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to fall asleep beside her on his knees.

Finally, she looked up at him. "Why?"

"Here, sit up," Harry said, and he helped her to sit up, then assisted her to the sofa. He sat beside her and wiped at the tears that streaked her face. It didn't matter, though, because more replaced those that he obliterated.

"Did Voldemort discover that my uncle had betrayed him?"

The significance of that question didn't hit Harry in his tired state. "Voldemort thought that your uncle had something he needed. He thought he had to kill him in order to get it. But it was all for nothing. It didn't change anything."

"Did you – were you there?"

Harry nodded. "I saw it happen. I couldn't have stopped it." Harry wasn't sure that he _would _have stopped it even if he could have. At that point, he hadn't known the truth, and his hatred for Snape was as great as it was for the supposed traitor's ostensible Master.

"Did he – did my uncle say anything? Did you speak with him?"

"He'd lost a lot of blood. He wasn't really able to talk. But, Sera . . ."

"So you still don't know," Sera whispered.

"Sera, listen," Harry said. He needed to get this out before he was no longer physically able. He would be arriving at that point soon now, he knew. "I was wrong about your uncle. He left me his memories, and I watched them . . . I watched him . . ." How could he explain to her about the pensieve and the ability to watch another's memories with the limited number of words he had left to him?

Sera put a finger on his lips to silence him. "I know," she told him. She didn't understand how _he _knew, but she could see that he knew the truth. "I know that my uncle loved your mother since she was a little girl and that he's been protecting you all these years."

Harry stopped, astonished. "But how . . .?"

"He told me. The night he killed Dumbledore, he came here and told me what he was going to do and why. He knew that he wouldn't be able to stay here after, and he wanted me to know why he was leaving. He made me promise that I wouldn't tell you. I wanted to so badly because I could see what you thought, what everyone thought."

Harry was glad that he didn't have to tell her. He leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes.

"For the last year, he's been pretty much staying away from me, trying to keep the Death Eaters from finding out I was here. It's been a very long year." It had been a lonely year as well. With Snape's fear that the Death Eaters would discover Sera and her relationship to him, she kept even more to her own room. She had regular contact only with Jamie. She saw Hagrid frequently until he was forced to flee. Even Dobby had stopped coming, although she didn't know why, replaced by Winky, a shy little elf who never spoke unless necessary and who never wanted to talk about Harry Potter. Her uncle only came when he could no longer stand the guilt over what he was doing and what was happening around him that he was unable to stop, when he had to unburden himself to someone or go mad with the grief of it all. She'd been his shoulder to cry on, figuratively and even literally once or twice, the only one who could tell him that he was doing the right thing.

"I owe him my life so many times that I don't even know about," Harry murmured. "And I never got the chance to thank him. If he had only lived just a little longer, it would have been all over, and he would have been . . . free for the first time in his life, I think."

"Were you there with him when he died?"

Harry sat up and opened his eyes. "Yes."

"I'm glad," Sera said, fresh tears leaking down her cheeks. "If he died looking into Lily's eyes . . . well, that would have been a comfort for him, I think. Thank you." Sera shook herself, gathering herself back together. Her grief could wait a while. Harry needed her now. "You sit. I'm going to make you something to eat, and then you're going to sleep forever."

"You don't have to . . ." Harry started to protest, but found he had no strength to finish his thought.

"Be quiet," she ordered.

He was asleep when she came back with sandwiches and pumpkin juice, but she forced him awake and made him eat and drink. Then, though he protested weakly, she pushed him into her bedroom and onto her bed, where he immediately fell into a deep slumber, oblivious to everything in the blessed respite of sleep. Sera covered him up, and Lenni jumped onto the bed and curled up beside him.

Five minutes later, Jamie appeared at her door, towing his brother Oliver behind him.

"Jamie!" Sera said, launching herself into his arms. "Oh thank God! Where have you been?"

"Getting patched up," he said, indicating the jagged cut on his arm. "I'm fine," he said, staving off her noises of concern. "Sera, this is my brother, Oliver. He came to fight. I wanted him to meet you while he was here."

Sera hugged Oliver. She'd have known they were brothers without having to be told. Jamie was the spitting image of his older brother. The only difference was about two inches that Oliver had over Jamie.

"Sera, I have some bad news for you," Jamie started.

"I know. My uncle," she whispered. Tears started again.

"Has someone else come, then?" Jamie asked, wondering how she knew.

"Harry's been here. _Is_ here actually. He's sleeping in there," she said, pointing to her bedroom door. "He came to tell me about Uncle. He was exhausted, so I made him go lie down."

Sera saw the green-eyed monster flare in Jamie's eyes. Then she saw the effort he made to tamp it back down, and she loved him a little bit more for it. "You two must be starving. Why don't you come in and I'll get you something to eat?"


	25. Chapter 25

**Summer of Enchantment**

by Warviben

**Summary**: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.

**Warnings: **This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.

##########

25 _Beginnings_

Nineteen years and one day later . . .

"Mr. Potter, there's a woman here to see you. She doesn't have an appointment."

Harry looked up at his new assistant. She'd been with him less than a week, and she hadn't gotten over her hero worship yet. "Faye, I've told you . . . it's Harry."

She smiled. "Sorry . . . Harry," she gushed.

Harry worked to control his eyes, which wanted to roll up into the back of his head. "Did she give you her name?" he prompted.

"Oh, yes." She consulted the scrap of parchment she'd written the name on. "Sarah Wood."

"Sarah Wood?" Harry repeated. Something familiar about that name niggled the back of his brain, but he couldn't quite put his finger on who she was. "See if she can come back another time, would you? I've got rather a lot on my plate this afternoon."

"Certainly, Mr. P- . . . Harry," she corrected herself with another simpering smile. She left the room, and Harry gave his eyes free reign to roll. He wasn't sure how long this one was going to last. Overall, he had to admit, he preferred male assistants. All of the female assistants he'd gone through, no matter their ages, seemed to have a crush on him, which made him really uncomfortable and made them more than a little difficult to work with. At least with a male assistant, he didn't have that problem. Although that last male assistant he'd had, Dirk . . . well maybe being male wasn't quite the deterrent he thought it was.

Faye was back. "She says she realizes you might not have time for Sarah Wood, but she wondered if you could possibly make time in your busy schedule for Serafina Mallory." As she said this, her eyes were staring up at the ceiling, as though the message was written there, and Harry could tell she was trying to memorize exactly what his caller had said to her.

"Serafina Mallory! I certainly have time for Serafina Mallory!" he said, as he went by Faye, who seemed a little dizzy from her attempt at ceiling reading.

And there she was, standing in his outer office, looking much like he remembered from all those years ago. "Sera!" he exclaimed, delighted. "How are you?!"

They crossed toward each other and met in the middle of the room in a hug. Harry pushed her away and held her at arm's length. "You look wonderful! What are you doing here?!"

Faye had made her way back out of his office and plunked herself down behind her desk. She sat and stared at them, not even trying to hide her interest in the woman her boss had just hugged so joyfully.

"Come in!" Harry invited, mostly to get her out from under the curious eyes of his assistant. He escorted her back into his office and closed the door. "Sit down! Are you here on business?"

"Here in the building, yes," Sera said, unable to stop smiling. "Not here in your office, no. I had to deliver some things to the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I spotted your name on the door as I was passing by, and I just couldn't resist."

"I'm glad you didn't! Wow, you look really good. How long has it been?"

"Nineteen years. Since you kicked Voldemort's ass to the curb."

Harry's visit to her room immediately following Voldemort's defeat had been the last time he'd seen Sera. When he woke up hours and hours later on her bed, she hadn't been in her rooms, and he had not gone in search of her. There were others who needed his attention, namely the Weasleys, and Sera had slipped to the back of his mind.

In the days following Voldemort's defeat, Sera had been occupied with seeing that her uncle's body was retrieved from the Shrieking Shack, planning his funeral, and deciding what to do with his personal effects at school and at the home he kept in Spinner's End. Professor McGonagall had been extremely helpful to her during this time, and the two of them had spent much time together since the older woman had no one else to turn to in her time of grief and need. They had parted the greatest of friends.

Harry had not attended Snape's funeral, for which he had felt more than a little guilty. There were so many funerals in the days following the last great battle. Other than Dumbledore's, Harry hadn't been to a funeral prior to that time, and over the course of the next two weeks, he attended enough of them to last him three lifetimes. Unfortunately, Snape's funeral at Hogwarts had been scheduled for the same day as Fred Weasley's funeral in Ottery St. Catchpole, and there was no doubt in Harry's mind where he needed to be.

When her uncle's funeral was over and she'd finished cleaning out his home, Sera had gone to stay with Jamie and his family. Jamie had asked her to marry him a short time later, and they'd married on a beach in the Caribbean before moving to San Diego to begin their life together.

Harry smiled at her. "I've missed you. Hey, do you have plans? I was just about to get some lunch. Whaddya say? My treat."

"I do need to talk to you about something. But I don't want to take you away from anything important."

"I don't have anything here that can't wait a while," he assured her. And it was true. Although there would always be work for aurors as long as there were people bent on practicing dark magic, the work load was considerably less than it was in the time of Alastor Moody's day. And there wasn't anything that couldn't wait until tomorrow.

"You're sure?" When he nodded, she said, "All right. But how about I make lunch for you? I've got a babysitter at the house, and I really need to get back. It's not far from here, actually. Couple of blocks."

"Sure. That'd be great. I remember what a good cook you are!" Harry said, but Sera could tell that he felt the tiniest bit uncomfortable about accompanying her back to her place.

It was raining, and they debated briefly whether they should walk or ride. Sera's love of the rain won out, and they walked quickly to her two-story brownstone. Sera took Harry's coat and hung it with her own, then led him into the kitchen, where she immediately turned on the radio. Some things never changed.

"Very nice," he noted, looking around.

"It's just temporary. Have a seat. Can I get you a glass of wine?"

"Um, sure." He guessed one glass of wine with lunch wouldn't hurt.

"Hello, Aunt Sera," a young woman greeted them. She was carrying a toddler in her arms. The little girl said "Mumma!" and held her arms out to Sera, who took her daughter into her arms and gave her a hug and a kiss. "Hello, Pumpkin. Sheila, I'm all set now if you'd like to get going. Oh, Harry, this is Sheila. Harry is an old friend."

"It's nice to meet you," Sheila said as she slipped into her coat, not really looking at her aunt's visitor.

"You, too."

"Call me when you need me again," Sheila instructed on her way out. "Oh, she's had lunch."

"Okay. Bye, hon. Oliver's daughter," Sera said by way of explanation after Sheila had gone. She put the little girl down, and she toddled around the table after a tabby cat that had enough sense to keep just out of her reach. "Well, I don't have to ask what you've been up to," she said as she extracted a bottle from the wine refrigerator and poured him a glass. "Harry Potter still makes the news with alarming regularity. You've got what, three kids you and Ginny?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed, looking a tad uncomfortable, taking the glass she offered to him. "Just sent the two oldest off to Hogwart's yesterday. Are you going to make me drink alone?" he asked, holding up his glass.

"I have addiction issues in my past, remember? Both parents. I try not to touch the stuff. Now where were we? Both your older kids are boys, right?"

"Yes. Lily, she's the youngest, was a bit upset about being left behind." Something struck Harry and he looked up at her. "She's why you wouldn't let me name Sunny after my mother, isn't she?" His eyes found her daughter, and he drank her in. Dark hair, like her mother. Large dark eyes, like her mother. She was her mother, in miniature. Sunny might have looked just like this. She'd be – holy smokes, she'd be in her twenties were she alive today!

Sera smiled in acknowledgment. "I knew you'd have other kids some day. Of course at the time, I thought it would be with me, but that's . . . just the way it worked out, I guess."

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"So anyway," Sera continued. "Three kids. Worked your way up to head of the auror department at the Ministry of Magic. Beautiful wife who played Quidditch professionally and now writes for the _Prophet._ Until the two of you divorced three years ago. The paper was low on details as to the cause of the break-up of your marriage. There were lots of rumors of infidelity." Sera knew this was none of her business, and she shouldn't be expecting details, but she couldn't help but be curious.

"Well, the press has been known to be wrong on occasion," he pointed out. "I'm sure you remember how they treated your uncle after his death, until those of us who knew the truth made sure that it was public knowledge."

"I remember," Sera said quietly.

"I did nothing to correct whatever they wanted to print about Ginny and me. It was a . . . difficult time for both of us." Harry took a large swallow of his wine. "Ginny figured out that she preferred women. She'd taken a lover. I . . . found them one day, and it was over then. We stayed together for a while longer, for the kids' sake, but she just wasn't happy. Which was making the rest of us unhappy. So she left, went to live with her partner, a really nice woman, by the way, named Joyce. Joyce is a travel writer, so Ginny's not around much. That's why the kids live with me. Well, it's just Lily now, with the two boys gone." Sera could tell how much he missed his sons already. She knew the feeling. "So that's my life for the past twenty years. Now tell me about you."

As she worked to prepare lunch, Sera told her story. "After Voldemort's defeat and the funeral, I went to stay with Jamie's family."

"I'm sorry I didn't make it to the funeral," Harry offered.

"It's all right," she assured him. "I know why you weren't there."

"I named my second son Albus Severus," Harry said quietly.

"I know," she told him. She'd seen the birth announcement in the paper. "Anyway, Jamie and I got married, and he joined the Department of International Magical Cooperation. You'll remember, that was when the Ministry decided to make a serious effort to reach out to other countries, to establish ties and bonds that could be drawn on in times of trouble. In case anyone like Voldemort ever tried to gain power again."

Harry nodded. He remembered the many changes that had occurred after Voldemort's defeat. The little girl toddled over to him, finally curious about the visitor.

"This is Rayna," Sera introduced. "Rayna, this is Harry."

"'arry," Rayna repeated.

"That's right, hon."

Harry smiled down at her. "Up, 'arry," she requested.

Harry lifted her into his lap, and she sat proudly and looked at her mother. Sera passed a coloring book across the table to her along with a box of crayons, and Rayna set to work.

"Jamie requested a posting in America," Sera continued. "He was one of the first to go there, so we got San Diego. What a beautiful place. Sun shines almost constantly. It's warm and the ocean is blue."

"I take it you got re-established on paper, in order to go back?"

"Piece of cake," she assured him. "With both governments involved, after they knew the story of how I'd come to be here and not exist where I was born, it was fixed in a matter of days."

"And how was that? Going back home?"

"It was wonderful. I'd convinced myself that it didn't matter, but really, it did. I'm an American. I was born an American, and I'll die one. And that's important to me. I didn't realize just how important until I returned home and got it back. I was glad to be home for 9/11. Not that I could do anything."

"We all felt that frustration," Harry noted.

"But I got basketball back, too," Sera said, brightening the mood. "I started playing again, and San Diego has its own professional team. Jamie and I got season tickets, and we went to all of the games. That was good."

"Did you ever go back to the farmhouse?" Harry asked.

Sera nodded. "I did. You wouldn't recognize it. The house and the barn are gone. The place has been subdivided into tiny little parcels, and there are houses stacked on top of houses all around the lake. Made me want to cry, actually." Sera thought back to the changes that had been wrought there since her childhood and shook her head sadly. "Where was I? Oh, yeah. I went to college – thought I wanted to teach little kids. I did that for a while, and then our own kids started coming."

"Kids. How many other than this little doll?"

"Four. All girls. The oldest is Jennifer. She's eleven. I put her on the Hogwart's Express yesterday, too."

"I didn't see you there!"

"Yes, well, there were a few people milling about, weren't there?"

Harry nodded in agreement. "So she's . . . got the magic?"

Sera nodded. "Cece, she's nine, she's got it, too. More so than Jenny, I think. And I've seen signs that Sophia might have more than the other two put together. She's five."

"And how old is this little peanut?" Harry said, tousling the hair of the little girl in his lap. "About two, I'd say."

"Give that man a prize," Sera said with a smile at her youngest. The smile left her face rather quickly. "I don't think she's got it."

Harry looked at her, surprised. "She's only two, Sera. You know it doesn't show up this soon."

"I know. It's just a feeling I have. She's the only one that looks like me. The others are Jamie's, through and through. It doesn't matter anyway," she said briskly. "It'll just be . . . hard if she can't go to school with her sisters, if she can't . . . do what they can do."

"Her mother has a good head on her shoulders. If it comes to that, she'll be all right. So where is Jamie?"

Sera stared at him. "You don't know?"

Harry shook his head, aware that there was something he was missing, something important. He'd surreptitiously looked at her hand earlier and saw that she wore a gold wedding band and a sizeable diamond engagement ring still, so they weren't divorced.

"He was killed by Lord Balthazar in the last battle for DC," Sera told him quietly.

Lord Balthazar. The United States' version of Lord Voldemort. Balthazar (born Zahari al Trambold) had studied Voldemort, had copied his tendencies (down to rearranging the letters of his name to announce his alter-ego), had thought he could succeed where Voldemort had failed.

Balthazar had begun his campaign for world domination by targeting American Muggle governmental facilities, knowing that by engaging them first, he'd be forcing intervention by the United States Council of Magic. The death and destruction he'd wrought were blamed officially on "terrorists", an explanation Muggles were only too willing to believe. Balthazar had gone several steps down a path that would have allowed him to seize control of the White House, and from there, the world.

In the end, he'd been brought down by the combined might of the magical ministries from the US, Canada, and their new friends in Great Britain. The Ministry of Magic had been quick to offer their assistance, both in terms of intelligence and manpower. Once a strategy was devised based on Balthazar's own particular strengths and weaknesses, a strategy, though few knew it, formed in large part by Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, and Severus Snape, he'd been defeated rather quickly, although not painlessly. Balthazar's last great stand, in the Senate office building, had caused the death of nearly a hundred of those attempting to rid the world of his evil. Most of those casualties had been American, but the Canadians and Brits had lost people, too, including Jamie Wood. That final battle had taken place five days before Christmas last, and it had taken two days of intense fighting before Balthazar and all of his followers were ousted. Balthazar had been killed early on the second day, and his disciples had fallen quickly after.

Casualty reports had crossed Harry's desk, but he hadn't read them. They brought back too many painful memories.

"I'm so sorry, Sera. I didn't know."

"It's . . ." She'd been about to say it was fine, but it wasn't. "Thank you. I don't know how I would have survived without Oliver and Wendy. They came over right away and stayed with us until we were able to function again. It's nice to have family, isn't it?"

"Yes, it certainly is," Harry agreed. When he'd married Ginny, he'd gotten the entire Weasley clan in the bargain. It wasn't as though he didn't already feel like a part of their family, but it was nice to have that tie, for his children to have those ties, especially now.

"It was always the plan to move back here when Jenny was old enough to attend Hogwart's, so we stayed in San Diego until a couple of months ago, then packed up and moved out here. We stayed with Oliver for a couple of weeks, but six kids and three adults and two dogs and two cats – it was pretty crazy. We're renting here until we can find something more permanent."

Harry realized that Rayna had been still for a while, and he looked down at her. She was sleeping, slumped against his chest, her beautiful long dark lashes closed against her pink cheeks. She looked like a cherub. "She's sleeping," he whispered.

"You don't have to whisper," Sera told him. "She could sleep in a train station. On the tracks. Here, I'll take her and put her down."

Harry lifted her into his arms. "Just show me where. I'll do it."

Sera led him to her own room, which she shared with her youngest daughter. Harry laid her in her cot and covered her with a blanket. "She's very beautiful. Just like her mother."

"You're a good liar," Sera said with a mischievous smile, and she led the way back to the table. "Lunch is ready," she said, and they didn't speak while food was brought to the table.

"How are the kids adjusting to all of this?" Harry asked. "Losing their dad, moving? It's a lot of change in a short period of time."

"They're southern Californians," Sera pointed out. "They're pretty laid back about everything. Which is not to say that it hasn't been hard, but they seem to be doing okay."

"And you?" Harry pressed. "Are you getting along okay?" Harry asked when she'd sat opposite him. "I know that raising four kids by yourself can't be easy. Kids are expensive."

"Oh, we're fine in that department. But that's kind of why I wanted to talk to you."

Harry looked surprised. Was she going to ask him for money?

But that was the farthest thing from Sera's mind. "When I was teaching school, I did some writing. It was just . . . something that was inside me, and I didn't find peace until I'd written it down. I didn't intend for anyone to ever see it, really. Unknown to me, Jamie found it and read it. He apparently thought it was pretty good because he sent it away to a publisher. He intended to present me with a contract for publication of the book as a birthday present. It ended up being a Christmas present because the first two places he sent it turned it down."

"So you've had a book published? That's wonderful, Sera!"

"Yes. And thank you. I was . . . reluctant to agree to it, but Jamie thought it was a good idea and the publisher was really excited about it, so I agreed. It's done really well in the States. My agent is talking about a movie even."

"Wow."

"Yeah. So I did a sequel, and that's done and will be released shortly. The third installment is probably half finished. And there's more where that came from. The first book did well enough that I'll never have to work again if I don't want to. With the movie, and the video game, and the merchandise . . . well, it's gotten a little crazy."

"Wow," Harry said again. "This is great. I'm so happy for you. So what can I do to help you?"

"Well, it isn't really help that I need. You see, the book . . . the idea came from . . . Well, maybe I should just show you."

She got up from the table, and Harry noticed that she'd barely touched her meal. He'd polished his off while she was talking. She hadn't lost her touch in the kitchen.

She came back with a hardcover book, about two inches thick. She held onto it nervously. "I hope you won't be angry."

"Why would I be angry?" he asked, holding out his hand for the book. When she didn't give it to him right away, he looked at her sternly, the look he reserved for his children when they weren't minding. She sighed and handed it over.

"Cyrus Dench and the Jewel of Eternity. By S.M. Wood," he read out loud. He turned the book over and read the brief explanation on the back cover to himself. "After eleven years of disregard and neglect at the hands of his cruel aunt, uncle and cousin, Cyrus Dench suddenly receives a visit from a giant, who informs Cyrus that he is a wizard, and that he is to attend a special School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Most surprising of all to Cyrus, he is a legend in the wizard world for having survived an attack by the evil sorcerer who killed his parents and left him with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Here is enchantment, suspense and danger galore as Cyrus and his new friends discover the secrets of the jewel that provides life everlasting and battle evil while they unravel the mystery behind Cy's mysterious scar."

Harry looked up at Sera, his mouth hanging open. "This is about me?"

Sera nodded. "I'm sorry. I just . . . you told me so much about what happened to you that first year. I still have my diaries from back then. I'd written down a lot of the details, and I made up some stuff, and then there was this book. I never meant for anyone else to see it. You have to believe me."

Harry lifted the book. It was quite hefty. "Me? In here? _My _story?"

"Well, obviously the characters all have different names. And it takes place in the United States. But yes, it's your story. I'm sorry," she offered again. "Are you angry?"

"I don't know quite how to feel," he confessed. He opened the book to a point near the middle and began to read about his and his friends' first encounter with Fluffy, the three-headed dog. While it was strange reading about his own adventures, and some of the details were incorrect, he had to admit that the writing style was entertaining. She'd done a good job with it.

"The reason that I'm coming to you with this now," she said, interrupting him, getting to the crucial part of her confession, "is that when my publisher found out that I was moving here, he decided that now was the ideal time to release the book over here. He thinks there will be almost as large of an audience for it here as there was back home. And I knew that if that were true, you'd become aware of it eventually, and I didn't want you to learn about it from someone other than me." She paused, looking anxiously at him. "I wish you'd say something!"

"I don't know what to say, Sera," Harry said. "Can I read this?"

"Of course."

"And there's another one on its way out?"

"Yes. It's the story of your search for the Chamber of Secrets. Cyrus Dench and the Secret Chamber. And the third one is the story of your reunion with your godfather."

"Can I read those as well?"

"Yes. Anything you want. I've got an advance copy of the second book here somewhere, and I'll give you everything I have so far on the third. But Harry, you have to understand . . . if you say the word, I won't let them do it. As I said, we can live comfortably off what I've made on the first book for the remainder of my life. I don't need to write any more or release anything here. If you feel uncomfortable with this, just let me know, and it's done. You have my word."

"And just how many of these things did you plan to write?"

"Well, I have outlined four more in addition to the three we've already talked about. One for each year of your schooling, plus the one year of the quest. And the battle. I've used as much detail as I could remember you giving me. The story is such an amazing one, that I don't need to embellish much, only to fill in the gaps where I'm missing information. I've tried to stay true to it as much as I could. Although," she said with a shy chuckle, "I don't imagine Cyrus will be knocking up any teenagers when he's sixteen."

"That's probably for the best," Harry agreed. "Although I think I was fifteen," he pointed out.

"Harry, I . . ."

She was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and the arrival of two brown-haired, hazel-eyed children. They were talking between themselves when they entered, but at the sight of the stranger in their kitchen, they fell silent.

"Hi, girls. How was school?" Sera asked.

They both dropped backpacks to the floor. "Fine," answered the older, staring curiously at Harry. "Good," said the other, and then, "Can I have a cookie?"

"Yes, honey. Harry, this is Cecelia," Sera introduced her older daughter, "and Sophia. Girls, this is Harry Potter. He's an old friend."

"Hello, Mr. Potter," Cece said. Sophia, painfully shy with strangers, stood behind her sister and didn't speak.

"Hello, girls. It's very nice to meet you."

"Cec, can you fix a snack for both of you while I talk with Mr. Potter, please?"

Harry looked at his watch. "Wow, it's later than I thought. I really have to get going." He stood up, the book in his hand.

"Let me get you the other book and my draft of the third," Sera offered, and she left the room. Harry watched her two children, the older helping the younger, until she returned. When she did, she handed over a second volume and a hefty pile of paper, clipped together.

"I'm really sorry about all of this," Sera said again.

"You don't need to be sorry, Sera. I just can't figure out how I feel about this. Can I get back in touch with you in a couple of days?"

"Of course. Bring Lily and come for dinner. Just let me know when."

"All right. It really is good to see you after all this time," he said sincerely.

"You, too," Sera said softly. She walked him to the door. The worry she was feeling must have shown on her face, because he reached over and took her hand.

"Don't worry. I'm not angry with you. I'm just not sure how I feel about the whole story being out there, you know?"

Sera looked down at their joined hands. The spark was still there, only a shell of its former self, but there nonetheless, and she wondered if she was the only one that could feel it. She smiled up at him and squeezed his hand, then withdrew her hand from his.

"Don't forget dinner," she reminded him. "No matter what you decide about the books, the invitation still stands."

"I won't forget. I'll let you know. Goodbye, Sera."

She opened the door for him, and he left her again.

##########

"You'll never guess who I ran into today," Harry said to Hermione later that evening. He'd invited her and Ron here for dinner, needing her especially as a sounding board. Ron was running late at the store, so Hermione had come with Hugo, who was up in Lily's room with her.

"So tell me then," she said good-naturedly.

"Remember Serafina Mallory?"

Hermione stared at him. "Of course I do. Do you think I'm likely to forget your first lover?"

Harry felt his cheeks flush, but he plowed on. "She's actually Sera Wood now. Married Jamie Wood, Oliver's younger brother."

Hermione nodded. She knew that they'd married right after school. "I knew that."

"He was killed. In the States. Did you know that, too?"

"Yes." She'd seen the reports, and she'd actually read them. She'd assumed that Harry had known as well and just hadn't said anything to her about it at the time.

"I didn't know," Harry confessed. "They had four kids. The youngest is only two."

"That's really sad," Hermione said. "So where did you see her?"

"She came into the office today. She had something to drop off at IMagCo. She said she saw my name on the door and just decided to stop in. Although she said she needed to talk to me about something."

"Oh?"

"Yes. We went to lunch. At her apartment." Harry figured he'd better get that right out there. Although he was a single man – he owed no one an explanation for his behavior. Hermione had always made him feel like a misbehaving twelve-year old who ought to know better.

"Oh?" she said again, this time raising an eyebrow.

"She cooked for me. I wanted to go somewhere for lunch, but her babysitter had to leave." Why was he so nervous? He hadn't done anything wrong in having lunch with an old friend. Even if it had been at her place and they'd been unchaperoned by other adults.

Hermione let all that pass. She knew her friend well enough to know that he hadn't done anything he might regret with his former girlfriend. She also knew him well enough to know that he would be worried about how others might feel about the appearance the situation had created, if only so that his children would be spared gossip. "So what did she want to talk to you about?"

"This," Harry said, extracting Volume 1 of the de facto Harry Potter chronicles from his brief case and handing it to her.

She took the book and looked at the front then the back cover. "She wrote this?"

Harry nodded. "It's basically about me – about us. The names have been changed to protect the innocent," he joked.

"Or the not so innocent," Hermione noted.

"It's been released in the United States, and she said it's doing really well there. There's a second one, too," he said, handing her that volume as well. "That one will be coming out soon. And she's writing more."

Hermione flipped through the pages. "Have you read this?"

"Most of the first one." Harry had gone back to his office after meeting with Sera, shut the door, and read for the remainder of the afternoon. "It's really quite good. Entertaining. A lot of it is factually incorrect, but I didn't tell her everything that happened, so she filled in the gaps. She did rather an extraordinary job, actually."

"And why is she telling you about this now?"

"She's moved back here. Her oldest has started at Hogwart's. Her publisher wants her to release the books over here. She told me that if I was uncomfortable or if I objected that she wouldn't do it."

"And how _do _you feel?" Hermione asked, placing the books on the table.

"I'm not sure. It's a work of fiction, technically, right? Aimed at the Muggles. It's a little weird, but I don't think I object."

Hermione was quiet for a moment. "Maybe it's time," she suggested.

"Time? For what?"

"To tell the story. The whole story. So that everyone knows. So that your children and my children know. It's their history."

Harry had been thinking this himself, but he was glad to hear her say it, too. He'd like it if his children knew his story and the story of his brave friends who were now their mother and aunt and uncle and all of the other brave people who had contributed so much so that they could enjoy the lives they now led. Certainly there had been plenty of historical accounts written about the battle at Hogwart's and the time leading up to it, but Harry had lent none of them his name and story, though he'd been asked many times, so none of them was complete and few were factually accurate. "I was sort of thinking that very thing. I could never write it. You probably could, though. Would you rather. . .?"

"No," Hermione said immediately. "She started it. She should finish it."

"It might mean spending time with Sera, to fill in the gaps, if we want this done right. There's so much she doesn't know about the last two years. Is that . . . does that bother you?"

"Why would it bother _me_?"

"No reason, I guess. I'll tell her to go ahead, then."

"So where is she living?" Hermione asked.

"She's got a two-story flat not far from the Ministry. But she's looking for something more permanent."

"Did you tell her about the house next to ours?" The house next to Ron and Hermione's had been on the market for months, since the elderly wizard that lived there had died. The house shared a large backyard with the Weasley's own, and they'd confunded the real estate agent so that no Muggle family could buy the place. It was a large house and in need of some cosmetic repair, but it might be perfect for a family of five who understood about magic.

"I didn't think of it," Harry said. "But it would be a good solution to the problem. I'll tell her about it."

"No, I'll tell her about it. I'll go to see her tomorrow."

On Harry's questioning look, she said, "I think she'll be more likely to accept that it's a good idea if it comes from me."

"Why?"

"Because if you tell her, she might think that you're telling her as a former boyfriend. Whereas if I tell her, it'll be coming from the friend and sister-in-law of a former boyfriend."

"And that'll make a difference?" he asked, bemused.

"All the difference in the world," she assured him.

"Women," Harry muttered. "She invited us for dinner when I was there. Lily and me. It would make sense if you and Ron were there, too. She's going to need your input just as much as mine."

Right. Like anyone ever preferred to hear the Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger version of events when they could have the Harry Potter tale. Hermione smiled indulgently at her friend. Some things hadn't changed, even after all this time. "Great. I'll talk with her about that when I see her."

##########

Hermione knocked at Sera's door the following day. When Sera opened it, the two women stared at each other for a moment, both thinking the same thing. "She looks great."

"Hermione," Sera said with a genuine smile. "How nice to see you. Come in, please."

"Thank you," Hermione said as she entered. "What a lovely home you have."

"Well, I'd say thank you, but it's rented, furnishings and all. Can I get you a cup of tea?"

"That would be great."

"Sit down," Sera invited as she moved about the kitchen gathering tea things.

"I'm sorry to come unannounced," Hermione said.

"Oh, don't be. I work from home. I'm almost always here." But Sera had to wonder why Hermione was here. Had Harry not wanted to see her again? Was he turning her down, and he didn't want to do it in person?

Hermione could hear the sounds of a child playing from the next room. "May I see your daughter?"

"Of course." Sera led the way into the large sunken living room. Rayna was sitting in the middle of the floor, all of her stuffed animals in a circle around her, each with a tea cup in front of it.

"Ooh, a tea party!" Hermione exclaimed. She'd missed tea parties since Rose had outgrown them years ago.

Rayna looked up and smiled happily. "This is Rayna," Sera introduced. "Rayna, this is Hermione."

"My-nee," Rayna repeated.

"Hello, Rayna," Hermione said, squatting down beside the little girl.

"Want tea?" Rayna asked.

"I'd love some."

Rayna handed her an empty cup, and Hermione pretended to drink. "Mmmm. Yummy."

Sera smiled and left to prepare the real tea. When she returned with everything on a tray, Hermione was sitting on the floor, a part of the stuffed animal tea circle.

"Rayna, can Mommy borrow Hermione now? We have some grown up talking to do."

"Kay, Mommy."

Hermione rose and settled herself on the sofa. "I'd forgotten how much fun they are at this age. Rose is eleven. They grow up too fast, don't they?"

"They sure do," Sera agreed.

"So Harry told me about your meeting yesterday. And he showed me your books. I've spent the morning reading them."

"And what do you think?" Sera asked, holding her breath.

"They're wonderful," Hermione said simply. "Harry and I talked last night, and we both agreed that it's time that his story was told, by someone who knows, by someone who was there. He's refused to tell it himself, up until now, but he wants his children to know. It's a part of who they are."

Sera misunderstood what Hermione was telling her, and she was taken aback. She hadn't really thought that Harry would refuse to let her do this, even though she'd told him that she wouldn't if he objected, and she was finding it a little difficult to accept. "Okay. Well, I'll do whatever I can to help whoever you choose. I have notes and I can . . ."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione interrupted.

"You said you wanted someone who was there to tell the story."

"_You _were there," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh. I thought you meant . . . I wasn't there from the beginning, so I thought maybe . . . maybe you wanted to do it yourself. I know that you're more than capable."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you that impression. No, both Harry and I think you're absolutely the right person to do this. You have a gift, Sera. I've been reading since six this morning – I couldn't put them down. Harry said that some of the smaller stuff wasn't technically correct, because he hadn't told you every little detail and that you'd filled in some of the gaps, but I found I couldn't tell the difference between what really happened and what had come from your imagination. Because I don't know all of the details of this earlier stuff either. But it was wonderfully compelling, and if you didn't continue to tell the story, in some fashion or another, it would be a travesty. But Harry wants more than that. He wants it to be _his _story. Oh, the names will be different, of course, and the locations, as they already are, but it will be his adventures, and his triumphs, and his losses, and his children, and the entire world will finally know. He realizes that this means that you and he will have to work together, and if you're willing to do that, he's prepared to proceed."

Sera was getting more and more excited as Hermione spoke. They had liked her work! Not only did they not mind that she continued with the writing, Harry wanted to help her with it, to fill in the details she was missing, to make the picture complete!

"Are you kidding?! That would be fantastic! In fact, maybe before we release the first book here in the UK, he could go through it, and the second one, too, and make notes about what I need to change, so that when it is released, it'll be factually accurate here, at least. And here is where it's really more important, isn't it? The third one isn't far enough along so that those changes couldn't be made easily."

"You can certainly talk with him about it. Oh, I also wanted to mention to you that the house next to mine and Ron's is for sale. Harry said you were looking for a more permanent place. It's a huge, beautiful old house. We've been hoping for a magical family to move in. Just makes things a little easier, since the houses share a backyard. Why don't you come take a look?"

"What? Now?"

"Do you have time?"

"The girls will be home from school soon. If we could do it a little later, I'm sure they'd like to see it, too."

"Why don't we do this? Hugo will be home from school in half an hour. I've got to be there when he gets off the bus. I'll give you directions. As soon as your girls get home, come on out. I'll call the realtor in the meantime, have him meet us there. We can look it over together."

Sera smiled. "That sounds perfect."

##########

And it was. The house was everything that Sera could have dreamed of. It was an old Victorian style house with a full attic, four large bedrooms on the second floor, a master bedroom suite on the first floor with its own access to the massive backyard, a large, surprisingly modern kitchen, a sun-filled room which could be converted to a study where she could write, and a huge family room. Sera fell in love with it the moment she walked through the door, and the two older girls, accompanied by Hugo, were thrilled with its size and ran from room to room, exclaiming over everything they saw. Jamie would have hated it – it was too large, it was too old, it was too remote – but Sera loved it, and she made an offer to the realtor before she left, an offer which Hermione told her was sure to be accepted.

To celebrate, Hermione invited the Woods to stay for dinner. She'd arranged to pick Lily up at school, and she'd owled Ron to collect Harry, and the two men came home to find the kitchen full of women, all of them seemingly talking and laughing at once, making a great deal of noise and waiting for the pizza they'd ordered since no one felt like cooking. Hugo had taken refuge in his bedroom.

Over a dinner of nearly-cold pizza, the older kids fed and shipped off to the living room and Rayna drowsy in Hugo's old high chair, the adults talked.

Harry noticed that Lily's and Cece's heads were touching as they bent over a book that Lily had brought home from school. "They seem to be getting along nicely." Indeed, the two girls had hit it off from their first hello, and they'd already asked if Cece could spend the night with Lily tonight.

"I got an owl from James today," Harry told them. "I'd sent one to him, asking him to introduce himself to Jenny. He wrote back and said that he had and that he and Al have taken her under their wing and are introducing her around. She's in Gryffindor, too," he told Hermione and Ron. "He said they'd watch out for her."

"That's sweet. Thank you," Sera said. She took a sip of her diet soda and beamed at them. It was nice being back here, among friends.

"You weren't totally honest with me," Harry accused Sera, pointing a finger at her, suddenly changing the good feeling in the room.

"What do you mean?" Sera asked, alarmed. She hadn't deliberately lied to him about anything, and she had no idea what he could be talking about.

"Your book. You said it had done 'well' in the States. I did some checking. It's done a whole lot more than well. Phenomenal is the word I think everyone is using. Sera, you're a huge hit! You've already broken pre-sale records with the second book, and it's not due out for another two weeks. I don't think you could have stopped your publisher from releasing it here if you'd wanted to, because the demand here is almost as large. The movie rights sold for a huge amount, and the merchandising line is going to do just as well, from all predictions. I hope you have someone helping you to manage all of this, because if it hasn't already, your life is about to explode!"

Sera stared at him. "Someone learned to use the internet finally, I see."

Harry raised his wine glass in a toast to her.

"I _did _tell you that I'd never have to work again," she pointed out.

"I'm not going to regret having you for a neighbor, am I?" Hermione asked. "We're not going to have crazy stalker people crashing around in the bushes?"

"I can't see it getting _that _bad," Sera said. "But if we do, you have my permission to stupefy them. There is something that I wanted to make clear right up front. If we do this, you're going to have to let me make some provision for dividing up the proceeds . . . financially, I mean."

Both Harry and Ron started to protest, but Sera cut them off. "Look, I've already made more money off this than I can spend in two lifetimes. And it's not even _my _story! If you won't take it directly, you've got to let me set something up for the kids. I won't continue to profit myself from this, not considering everything I've had to take and will continue to take from you to get it."

"We can work that out later," Harry said, ending the uncomfortable topic.

They sat a moment in silence, until Hermione suddenly said, "Harry! The portrait!"

"The portrait?" he repeated, and then he figured out what she was talking about. "Oh, the portrait!" He turned excitedly to Sera.

"What?"

"I'm not sure if you're aware of this," Harry explained. "All of the headmasters of Hogwarts over the years have their portraits hanging in the Headmaster's office. If they have another painting hanging in a different location, they can travel between the paintings, visiting each one as they choose."

"Okay." Sera was puzzled about what this had to do with her.

"Well, you remember that wizarding portraits are alive – they can talk and move about."

"I remember."

"I have hanging in my study a portrait of Dumbledore," Harry continued. "We speak almost every day."

"That's wonderful, Harry. I know how much you looked up to him. It must be a real comfort to you."

Harry nodded. It had been that over the years. "I also have a portrait of Severus Snape."

Sera was speechless for a moment. When she finally found her voice, she asked, "Uncle Severus? I could talk to him?"

Harry nodded. "Right now, if you like."

Sera covered her mouth with a hand as tears sprang to her eyes. She'd never imagined she'd be able to speak with her long lost uncle again. "Do you speak with him often?" she asked, giving herself time to gather herself.

"No," Harry said. "We've spoken . . ." He thought about it. "Three times since I've had the painting. The first time was right after the portrait was finished. I wanted to thank him for all that he'd done for me, for loving my mother so well and so long. He didn't want my gratitude, of course. He hadn't done it for me, he said, but I needed to say it anyway. The second time was after his potions textbook was published. Dumbledore had started the new book on its way prior to his death, but it didn't come out until quite a while after Voldemort's defeat. I wanted your uncle to see it. They're still using it at Hogwart's. The third time was just a year ago. He and Dumbledore and I conferenced on a plan for defeating Balthazar. That was the last time. He and I still don't . . . like each other much."

Harry had been instrumental in having a portrait of Snape placed in the Headmaster's office at Hogwart's. There were those, who didn't know the whole story, who had been against the idea of the man who ruled Hogwart's during Voldemort's reign there having a portrait hanging beside those who had served the school so nobly. But Harry _had _known the whole story, and in the aftermath of his defeat of Voldemort, the Ministry of Magic would have given him the moon, so he'd pushed for Snape's portrait until he, himself, had hung it on the wall in Dumbledore's old office. It had taken two years, but he'd finally done it.

He hadn't been entirely sure what to do with the second portrait. No one else seemed to want it, unlike Dumbledore's second portrait, which had been highly coveted. Dumbledore himself had chosen to reside in Harry's home, and neither man had ever regretted it. So Harry had hung Snape beside Dumbledore in his study, and while Dumbledore flitted in and out almost daily, Snape's portrait remained empty and forlorn, Snape preferring to spend his time in the Headmaster's office.

"Would you like to talk to him? I can go get the painting," Harry asked.

Sera nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"Wait here. It may take a few moments."

Harry apparated into his own study. But instead of calling for Snape, he asked for an audience with Dumbledore. When his mentor arrived, Harry was smiling widely. "I have good news that I need to share with Professor Snape. Would you mind asking him to come?" He suspected Snape would not respond to a summons from the former bane of his existence.

Dumbledore's interest was piqued. "Can I ask what it is?"

"This is something I really need to tell Professor Snape first. I'm sure he'll tell you about it later."

"Can't I stay while you tell him?" Dumbledore wheedled.

"Sorry, Professor. I'm taking him away."

Dumbledore actually pouted at not being let into the secret in advance, but he agreed to go and get Severus right away. While he waited, Harry removed Snape's frame from the wall and set it on the floor.

When Snape arrived in his portrait, he glared up at Harry. "Potter, why have you taken me off the wall?" He'd never looked up to Harry Potter in life, and he was damned if he'd do so now that he was dead.

"Hello, Professor. How are you today?"

"I'm feeling a little two dimensional, but other than that, fine." It was a standard joke among the portrait people, one they thought the living found quite amusing. Perhaps the first time. "And you? The family is fine?"

"I'm fine, thanks. And the family is great. Have you seen James and Albus yet?"

"No, but it's only the second day of school," Snape noted.

Harry was pleased that both his sons had made it through two whole days without being sent to the Headmaster's office. For James, that was some sort of personal record.

"Was there something you needed me for?"

"Yes. There's something I need to show you. You'll have to come with me. Are you willing?"

"What is it?" Snape asked in his usual suspicious tone, but Harry could tell his interest was whetted.

"It's a surprise."

"I don't like surprises. I find I like them even less now that I'm dead."

"I think you'll like this one," Harry assured him.

Snape looked up at him, his dark eyes glaring. "And you won't tell me what it is?"

"No. Just trust me."

Snape snorted. "_Trust _you, Potter? That's never gotten me anywhere I wanted to be."

"That's because you've never done it," Harry pointed out.

"Oh, very well," Snape relented. "Let's get this over with." Though he sounded annoyed, he couldn't help but look forward to this variance in his routine (though he'd never admit it).

"We'll have to apparate," Harry warned him.

"Do _not _splinch me, Potter, or I shall leave this frame and haunt your every waking moment."

It was Harry's turn to snort, and he picked up the large frame in both arms.

"Perhaps you could turn me around," came Snape's muffled voice from somewhere in the vicinity of Harry's belly button. "So that I'm not suffocating in your robe."

"You're dead, Professor. You can't suffocate. Just hang on – we'll be there in a moment."

Harry apparated them into Ron's study. He transformed a bookcase into an easel and propped Snape's portrait onto it. "Still in one piece?" he asked the grumpy man.

"Yes, amazingly. Where are we?"

"We're at the Weasleys – Ron and Hermione's," Harry said by way of further explanation, since there were so many Weasleys. "Hang on just one more second." Harry left the room and returned moments later, still alone. Snape peered around for whatever it was he was supposed to be seeing.

"There's someone here who wanted to see you," Harry explained. "Sera, come on in."

When Sera entered the room, Snape's eyes went wide with amazement. "Sera?" he whispered. She was older, obviously, than when he'd last seen her, but he would have recognized her anywhere.

"Hello, Uncle," she said as she came to stand in front of his portrait, tears running down her cheeks. She reached out a hand to the painting, wanting to touch him so badly.

"Child, you look . . . you are still so beautiful."

"I'll just let the two of you talk," Harry said. He left the study, closing the door behind him.

"I can't believe I'm actually talking to you again," Sera said, unable to stem the tears that flowed from her eyes.

"I, also, never allowed myself to hope for such a meeting," said Snape. "When I learned that you had returned to the States . . . I was so very sorry to hear about Jamie. He was a fine boy."

"Yes, he was. Turned into a pretty good man, too," Sera noted.

"So tell me – what have you been doing since I saw you last?"

She told him everything – about the return home, college, teaching school, the children, the book, the move back here, the house next door. He listened raptly and had only one question when she finished. "Are the children here with you?"

"Jenny's with you – at Hogwart's, I mean. I'm sure you can think of a reason to get her up to the Headmaster's office to get a look at her and introduce yourself. Better yet – I'll borrow an owl and tell her to go to you. The other three are here. Would you like to meet them?"

Wordlessly, Snape nodded.

Sera got up and went out into the living room, where everyone was gathered around the television watching a movie. She looked at her watch and was amazed to see that an hour had passed while she'd chatted with her uncle. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't realize how late it was. We're almost finished."

"Take your time," Harry said. Rayna was asleep on his lap. He'd missed watching his children fall asleep in his arms and had been more than happy to sit here with the toddler while she did so.

The older children were lying on the floor, nearly asleep, watching the movie through hooded eyes. "Cece, Sophie, would you come here a minute, please? There's someone I'd like you to meet."

The girls got to their feet and followed their mother back into the study. She led them to the painting and put a hand on each child's shoulder. "Uncle Severus, this is Cecelia and Sophia. Girls, I want you to meet your uncle."

"Hello," Cece said. Sophia took a step sideways so that she was standing behind her mother's leg. Both girls had seen moving pictures – talking portraits weren't much of a step up.

Snape looked from the girls to Sera and back again. "Hello, girls. It is so very nice to meet you. They look very much like their father."

Sera nodded. "As does Jenny. Only Rayna . . . ah, here she is."

Harry brought the still sleeping child into the room.

"Girls, you can go on back to your movie now," Sera told them. "We'll be leaving shortly."

After the two girls left the room, Harry approached Snape's portrait. "I've been thinking – once Sera and the girls have moved into the house next door, you belong with them there, Professor. If you'd like, that is."

Snape did like, and he nodded. Harry handed Rayna to her mother, then turned to leave. After he'd left the room, Snape said, almost grudgingly, "He, also, has turned into a fine man."

"I heard that!" Harry said from the other room.

Snape's eye roll landed on the dark-haired child in Sera's arms, and he seemed unable to look away. Here was his sister from so many years ago, and here was what his niece must have looked like as a small child.

"This is Rayna," Sera told him.

"She is your mother all over again. She is you. She is so beautiful."

"Thank you, Uncle Severus. If you hadn't rescued me all those years ago, none of this would have been possible. None of them would exist."

"Whatever I gave to you was repaid to me a hundred times," he assured her. "Your children are tired. Take them home, Sera."

"I hate to leave you. Finding you, after all this time . . ."

"I know," he said. "But we'll talk again. And we'll be together soon. You'll tire of me, I fear."

Tears shining in her eyes, Sera said, "That will never happen. Good night, Uncle Severus."

"Good night, child. Take care of yourself and your beautiful children until I see you again." Knowing it would be difficult for her to leave him, Snape got up and with one last loving look at her, exited his painting.

Sera sat staring at the place he'd been, filled with a sense of peace she hadn't known since Jamie's death. But Uncle was right – the children were tired, and she needed to get them home. Reluctantly, she left the room where she'd unexpectedly re-established a connection to her past.

All of the children were now soundly sleeping.

"Girls," Sera called softly, trying not to wake Hugo and Lily. "We have to go."

"Why don't you leave them here?" Hermione suggested. "There's no point in waking them up. I'll toss some blankets on them and they can camp out on the floor. I'll run them home in the morning."

"Are you sure?" Sera asked.

"I can make pancakes tomorrow!" Ron said happily.

"I'm sure," Hermione assured her. "They're welcome here any time. _You're _welcome here any time. Besides, when I drop them off, we can discuss packing. I'm happy to help in any way I can."

Sera hated packing, and she could see the benefit to having someone with magical abilities helping her. "Thank you. Thank you all for . . ." Sera found herself unable to continue. It was too much, all the good things that were happening for her and her family, and she looked down to conceal the tears that had sprung to her eyes.

"Thank you," she said finally, raising her eyes to them again. "Thank you for your wonderful story and for letting me be a part of it."

##########

A month later, Sera had entirely moved her family into their beautiful new home, with much help from her magical friends, and she and Harry had set to work correcting Books 1 and 2. Her publisher had nearly laughed at her when she'd requested that the first two books be modified before they were released in Europe, and when she couldn't give a convincing reason why (which, of course, she couldn't), flatly refused her request. However, in the interest of historical accuracy, if for the children of the participants and nobody else, she and Harry had decided to make those revisions anyway and publish a limited set of those versions with their own money.

She had finally gotten Harry, and Ron and Hermione, to grasp just how much money they were talking about here, and before they'd set to work, lawyers had hammered out an agreement whereby any money earned from any source related to _Cyrus Dench _from here forward would be split equally three ways. The agreement also included a large cash settlement on both Harry's family and Ron and Hermione's family for reimbursement of past income earned, which Sera felt was only right and absolutely refused to budge on. Harry had immediately donated all of that money to Hogwarts with the stipulation that a fund be established, in the name of all who had died in the fight to end evil, to purchase school books, robes and supplies for _all_ students, so that no-one would ever again go without or feel ashamed of secondhand books and clothes. He'd always felt, after seeing the Weasleys struggle to put seven children through school, that if the school required these items, the school should supply them, and now it would. When he received his next sizeable bit of money, he intended to establish another endowment at Hogwarts to bring teachers pay up to the level it should be. These people were teaching the next generation, and the pay they earned for their daily toil and sometimes hazardous duty was abysmal. That fund, though he would hate even the thought of it, would be established in the name of Severus Snape.

And of course, Hermione was extensively researching the many ways that the Weasley share of the _Dench _fortune could be put to similar philanthropic use. So from all of the struggle and hardship and loss, something good (other than ridding the world of an evil, of course) was rising from the ashes of Voldemort's last stand.

Out of necessity, Harry and Sera were spending a lot of time together. Nearly every evening after he'd completed a full day (and sometimes more) at the Ministry, Harry could be found at the Wood house for meals and work on the manuscripts once the children were tucked in bed. Sera had installed a second bed in Cece's room for Lily, and she spent more nights in that bed than she did the bed in her own room. Although offered Sera's guest room nearly every night, Harry always declined and returned to his own bed, no matter how late the hour they finished up. In the morning, Sera would wake Lily, as she did the rest of her children, and nag her to get ready for school and make sure she had breakfast and a bag lunch packed, as she did the rest of her children, and it helped to ease the ache of missing Jenny just a little to have her there. It didn't hurt that Lily's father often popped in in the morning as well, to assist in wrangling all of the children.

Though neither of them could see it, Harry and Sera were slowly falling back in love. Though maybe, at least for one of them, they'd never been completely out of it.

But those around them saw, including one Severus Snape from his perch in the beyond, though all held their counsel on the subject. Uncle Severus had become even more firmly ensconced in the Wood household than Harry. His portrait hung in the kitchen, but Sera painted another with a comfy chair which Harry charmed and she hung in the living room so that he could join the family there as well without her having to move the awkwardly large painting. The other occupants of the portrait gallery in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts began to see much less of the sarcastic former Potions master, and although not many would confess to missing the caustic old bastard, he was actually quite a lot less caustic these days. Having small children around, especially little girls whom you did not wish to terrify, could do that to you.

Sophie was especially afraid of her great uncle, usually making sure the kitchen table was between her and the painting at all times. She was naturally shy, and the dark and harsh-speaking man moving around in the portraits in her house could have been quite nightmare-inducing if Sera hadn't worked so hard to make her daughter feel at ease around Snape. Finally, one day, the ice was broken.

"Mommy, how do you spell 'get well soon'?" little Sophie asked as she sat at the kitchen table, absorbed in a homemade card she was crafting with paper and crayons for her baby sister Rayna, currently nursing a runny nose and a fever. Without Sophie realizing it, her mother had left the room, and her uncle had entered it. He'd been watching her silently, afraid to startle her, as she worked raptly on her project.

When she received no answer, she lifted her head and looked around the room. She didn't see her mother, but she did see her uncle staring at her, and she froze in her chair. Severus tried out his best reassuring smile, but he wasn't sure how successful it was because the little girl's demeanor didn't change.

"Mommy?" Sophie asked, her voice raised and just on the edge of panic.

"I'll be right there, honey," Sera called from somewhere close by.

Sophie seemed unable to move and sat staring at Snape.

"'G'," Snape said softly. "'Get' starts with a 'g'."

Sophie stared at him for a moment longer, then lowered her head to her paper. For a second, Severus thought she was going to cry, but then her hand raised, holding the crayon, and she drew a large "G" on the paper. "G," she said softly.

"E," Snape said, just as quietly.

And Sophie wrote.

"T."

"What's next?"

"Be sure and leave a space, because we're starting a new word," Snape instructed. "'Well' starts with 'w'."

By the time they got to "soon", Sera had returned to the kitchen, and she stood watching them: her shy, cautious daughter and her irritable, often irritating uncle, working together quietly, and she had to swallow hard to get past the lump that appeared in her throat. When Snape looked up and saw her there, he smiled tentatively at her. And when Sophie looked up and saw her there, she jumped to the floor, grabbed her card and waved it proudly at her mother.

"Mommy! Look at the card me and Uncle Sev'rus made for Rayna!"

And Sera looked up at the ceiling to quell the tears that sprang to her eyes.

The next time Severus appeared in the kitchen, he found a drawing of a lion (of all things) taped to his frame. Had picture people been capable of tears, he may have had to hide some that day. By the time Sophie returned and removed the picture so that she could show it to him properly, he'd had time to master his two-dimensional emotions enough to thank her sincerely for the picture and request that she re-hang it on his frame, which she did. It was followed by many others, and they created a colorful new frame around his old, drab wooden one.

And Severus became the only one Sophie would go to when she couldn't spell a word.

##########

The Christmas holiday was approaching, and Sera was torn between looking forward to seeing her oldest daughter again and dreading the first anniversary of her husband's death. She knew she'd need some time alone on that day, and despite how much she'd missed Jenny and how much she wanted to see her again, she'd arranged to delay their reunion by a few more days. Oliver and Wendy were picking up the three younger children and then meeting Jenny at the train station, and they'd be keeping all four girls until the day before Christmas. Sera would join them for Christmas Eve dinner before they all returned to their new home for their first Christmas there.

Ginny had informed Harry that she would be at the Burrow for Christmas this year, with her partner. Harry thought it was important that their children spend some time with their mother and had agreed to allow them to spend Christmas break at their grandparents. Normally, Harry spent Christmas at the Burrow, but with Ginny there, it would be just too awkward. As soon as Sera learned that Harry was to be alone on Christmas, she'd invited him to join her family, and wouldn't take no for an answer when Harry feebly tried to protest. As soon as Oliver and Wendy had driven away with Cece, Sophie and Rayna, Sera had called Harry and told him they were taking a Christmas "vacation" and wouldn't be working together again until after the holiday. She told him she'd see him Christmas day and hung up, leaving him more than a little concerned.

So Sera had four days for the breakdown she sensed was coming. She'd been working long hours, often until well into the morning hours, taking care of three and sometimes four children, keeping this large house clean and running smoothly, fending off her publisher asking for updates on the status of the third book (which was being largely ignored in favor of the revisions to the first two), and dealing with all of the other daily necessities which cropped up in life. And she was tired. And she missed Jamie so much she was heartsick. And she felt guilty because of the feelings she had for Harry. And it was all going to come crashing down.

##########

Harry sat at the desk in his study, ostensibly reading departmental budget reports, but actually seeing blurred sets of numbers dancing the cancan on the page before him. He looked at the glass of Scotch on the desk beside his hand – it was his first and couldn't possibly be responsible for the gyrating figures. Boredom was the more likely culprit. When had his job become more about wrestling with numbers than about grappling with wrong-doers? Was this the normal progression of things as one got older – more sitting and thinking and less moving and doing? Was this actually progress? And was he supposed to be happy about it? He'd been liking his job less and less lately. He didn't really need the income any longer, and he'd been thinking more and more about quitting the Ministry and finding something to do with his time that was more – meaningful.

His fortune was growing exponentially it seemed, and some time and care would be required to manage it. Maybe he could devote himself to finding worthy causes that needed money – there must be literally thousands of them. He could start a foundation – he'd call it the James and Lily Fund. What better way to spend one's time than by identifying areas of society that needed improvement and then helping to fund them?

Harry realized he was daydreaming, and he sighed and tried to turn his attention back to the report in front of him. He sipped from his glass and thought about requesting that the numbers perform a waltz. At least they'd be moving slower – maybe he'd actually be able to read them.

"Ah, Harry! Thank goodness you're here!" Dumbledore said behind him.

Glad for the distraction, Harry turned to face his former Headmaster with a smile. "Professor! How are you today, sir?"

"I'm fine, Harry, just fine. I've just been speaking with Severus. He's requesting your presence at Miss Mallory – I mean, Mrs. Wood's house immediately."

Harry sat forward in his chair. "Is something wrong?" he asked, worried instantly.

"I think there may be. He requested that you hurry!"

Harry jumped to his feet. "I'll go right now."

"Harry," another voice said from the fireplace. Goodness – one moment ago, Harry had been alone with his dancing numbers – now this place was as busy as Heathrow. It was Hermione, and her head was in his fireplace.

"Hello, Hermione. I haven't got much time. Something's up with Sera."

"I'm coming through," Hermione announced, and a moment later she was brushing floo powder from her Weasley jumper. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure. Severus asked Dumbledore to fetch me. Asked me to hurry."

"Go, then," Hermione urged. "Lily forgot Maggie." Maggie was the bear she still slept with. "I'll find her in Lily's room. You go to Sera. I'm going to wait here for a bit – let me know what's wrong and if there's anything I can do."

With a confirmatory nod, Harry disapparated.

Not knowing what he'd find, he appeared outside the door leading into Sera's kitchen. He cautiously opened the door and went inside. He immediately looked for Snape's painting, thinking to find out what was wrong, but the painting was gone. "Professor Snape?" he called softly.

"In here," he heard the familiar curmudgeonly voice call.

"Are you in the pantry?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Come and get me out of here!"

Harry opened the door of the pantry, and sure enough, there was Severus' portrait on the floor, facing the wall of canned goods. Harry spun the painting around. "Who put you in here? Where's Sera?"

"Serafina is the one who put me here!" Snape muttered, miffed by this maltreatment.

"But why?"

"Because she . . . she hid me."

"From whom?"

"She went out. Alone. She came back. Not alone. And very drunk. There's a strange man here. I think she plans . . . I think she intends to bed him."

Whoa. This bit of news sent Harry reeling. "What? Where are they now?"

"Well, it's rather hard to hear from in here with the door closed," Severus pointed out, "and she removed the living room painting as well. I think _that _one's in the basement." It was clear that Snape was not very happy about that, either. "But I believe _he's_ in the living room. I believe she told him she was going to change into something more comfortable."

Oh God. "What should I do?"

"Oh, I don't know," Snape offered sarcastically. "We could sit here and sing seasonal music together. I've always been partial to Silent Night. Do you know the words?" Snape looked at Harry as though he'd like to shake some hurry-up into the younger man. "Get in there and throw that degenerate interloper out of here before he lays a finger on my niece!"

"Right," Harry agreed with a tight nod. "Muggle or Wizard, do you think?"

"Hard to say. I'd guess Muggle, else why would she have gone to the trouble of hiding my picture?"

"Maybe because she knew you'd disapprove either way and that you wouldn't keep your thoughts to yourself?" Harry suggested.

"There is that," Snape conceded. Then he added, "Today is the anniversary. Of her husband's death. It has been one year."

"Oh," Harry breathed, and suddenly the reason for Sera's behavior became much clearer. She hadn't said anything, and he should have connected the pieces but didn't. So now he had to save her from herself. "Okay, so we don't know if he's a wizard or not. Well, I'll think of something. You wait here."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Where else would I go? The basement is scary."

Harry straightened up and left the pantry, closing the door behind him. He couldn't help a small smile when he heard Snape's muffled, "Hey!"

He entered the living room as though he'd done so every day, as indeed he almost had. The man sitting on the sofa looked at him with the same level of surprise that Harry feigned at seeing him there.

"Oh, hello," Harry said. "I'm Harry. Are you here to see my wife?"

"Your . . . wife?" the man asked, getting dazedly to his feet.

"Yes. Sera. Is she here?"

"She's in there," he said, pointing toward the bedroom door and edging toward the front door. "I think there's been a mistake here. I didn't know . . . I think I'll just be . . ." And he turned and bolted through the door.

"Shall I tell her you said good-bye?" Harry asked, amused. Harry waited a moment, to see if Sera would come out. When she did not, he returned to the pantry.

"Well, the guy's gone," he informed Snape.

"Yes, I heard. Very clever."

"Okay. Well, I'll just put you back on the wall, and then I'll be going."

"What? You can't leave!"

"Why not? I chased the guy away. Sera will sleep it off. She didn't tell me about this, so she obviously wanted to handle it her own way, by herself."

"You've gotten no more sensible as you've aged, I see. How is it the Ministry entrusts you with an entire department when you cannot see what's before you?"

"What are you blathering about?"

"Sera needs someone. She thought she needed that . . . man she brought home, but only because she didn't think the one she really wanted was available."

"Are you saying . . . are you saying that Sera wants . . . me?"

"For some unintelligible, unfathomable, incomprehensible, unimaginable –"

‟All right, Mr. Roget, I get your point."

"For some reason I cannot explain, she wants you. She has always wanted you, even all those years ago, when events intervened to take you away from her. She never stopped . . ." Snape stopped, wondering if he'd said too much.

"What were you going to say?" Harry demanded. When Snape pressed his lips together and looked away, Harry said, "Tell me, or I'm leaving now."

Snape sighed. "She loved you so much when you were younger."

"I loved her, too," Harry pointed out.

"Yes, but then you stopped. Just like that, you stopped."

"But we decided, together, that it was for the best. It was for her own protection." Wasn't it?

"Is that how you remember it? As you sit here right now, do you actually remember having a conversation with Sera where you talked about ending your relationship?"

"Well, of course . . ." But Harry stopped, because, when he forced himself to think about it, he really _couldn't_ remember having had that conversation, despite being told by Sera herself that they had. "No. No, I don't."

"That's because Dumbledore took that memory from you when he performed the memory charm."

"What?" Harry asked, appalled. "He did _what_ to me?"

"Oh, he did it with your approval. In fact, you asked him for it. He took that memory as well."

"But why? And what other memories did he take?" Harry was bewildered by this.

"You were right. It _was_ in Sera's best interest that the two of you not be involved at that time in your lives. And you attempted to break off that relationship in the normal way, but you found it impossible to stay away. So you discussed a memory charm with Sera. The plan was that you would both receive the charm, and that you would remain friends, but that your memories of your love would simply disappear. Dumbledore did the charm on you. But when I went to perform the charm on Sera, she refused to let me do it. So on the day you stopped loving her, she decided to continue loving you. I don't think she ever stopped, despite her marriage to young Jamie Wood."

Harry sat abruptly on the floor in front of Snape's painting. This was too much to believe. He remembered how much he'd loved Sera when they were teenagers. He had deliberately decided to end that love? "But I remember about the baby. How is it I remember the baby?"

"Dumbledore left you that memory at your request. I understand that all of this is rather unsettling, but my more immediate concern is Sera. She needs you. Go to her."

"You realize what you're asking me to do?" Harry said, staring into Snape's dark eyes. "You're asking me to get involved with your niece, again. Because if I go in there, while she's at her most vulnerable, and she wants me, I'm not sure I'll be able to walk away again, ever. Are you prepared for that?"

Snape shrugged. "She could do worse."

Harry snorted at his less than enthusiastic endorsement, but he got to his feet and made to leave the pantry.

"Potter," Snape said.

"Yes, Snape?"

"Harry," he conceded. "Could you get me out of this infernal closet?"

##########

After hanging the Professor's portrait back on the wall in the kitchen (the portrait in the living room could wait until after his discussion with Sera), Harry cautiously approached Sera's bedroom door. He tapped softly on it, and called, "Sera? Can I come in?"

He waited, but received no reply. Taking a deep breath, he grasped the handle, turned and pushed the door open slowly.

The only light in the room came from a small lamp beside the bed, which shed enough light to illuminate Sera, dressed in a very brief nightie, asleep on the bed, a bottle of champagne overturned beside her. Harry had been in this room before (Rayna still slept in her mother's room), but never when Sera was in such a state of undress, and he was suddenly nervous. He crept toward the bed and picked up the bottle – an inch or so of liquid remained in the bottom. Had she drunk the rest of it herself, or had her "friend" helped her? Harry set the bottle next to the lamp and sat beside Sera on the bed, only to discover that a good potion of the contents of the bottle had found its way onto the bed. He performed a quick, silent cleaning and drying spell.

"Sera," he said, grasping her shoulder gently. She moaned but didn't open her eyes.

"Sera!" he tried again, louder this time, shaking her a little more firmly.

She rolled toward him and opened her eyes. She smiled at him, but then the realization of where she was, and who was with her, and how she was dressed seemed to hit her all at once, and the smile left her face, replaced with a look of pure horror.

"Sera, it's . . ."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice no more than a whisper.

"Your uncle . . ."

"Where is . . ." she searched her memory but couldn't come up with the name of the guy she'd met in the singles bar. He'd hit on her. She'd already had a couple of drinks, and she had a few more with him, until inviting him here had seemed like a perfectly sensible thing to do. She'd come in here to get ready, which she apparently had done, and then – Nothing. She could remember nothing after that. Apparently, she'd passed out on the bed.

"He's gone. I . . ."

"Oh my God!" she interrupted again. "What have I done?"

"You haven't done . . ."

"Where are the girls?"

"You sent them to . . ."

"Oh, thank God!" she said, and then it all came rushing back. The reason she'd sent the girls away, the reason she'd gone to that bar in the first place. She'd needed to obliterate the hole that losing Jamie had left in her life and, barring that, to try to fill it up with something else. A total stranger seemed a good idea – no strings, no regrets. At least, that had been her theory. But something had gone wrong. She'd thought that obliterating the hole wasn't working, so she'd moved on to filling it with something else. And then obliterating the hole had caught up with her while she was trying to fill it with something else. And then Harry was here. "What are you doing here?" she asked again.

Harry simply stared at her.

"Well?" she demanded. "Aren't you going to answer me?"

"Are you going to let me finish a sentence?" She nodded. "Good then. Your uncle sent for me, through Dumbledore. He was worried about you. You were acting strangely. You came back drunk, with a total stranger, and he was afraid you . . . He didn't want you to make a mistake you'd regret tomorrow."

"What a guy! Well, you've done your heroic duty once again. You can go now."

"I don't think I want to."

"Excuse me?'

"You're hurting, Sera. I shouldn't have needed someone to tell me that this is the anniversary of Jamie's death. I'm sorry."

Sudden tears filled her eyes, and she looked away. "He was such a good man."

"Yes, he was," Harry agreed.

"You know what the worst part was?"

Harry didn't know, and he shook his head.

"He loved me so much. And he loved the girls. He was such a wonderful father. But somewhere deep down inside, I think he knew. No matter how hard I worked so he wouldn't see, I think he always knew. And he was such a great guy that it didn't matter. He still loved me. I didn't deserve him."

"What did he know, Sera?" Harry reached out and took her hand.

"I loved him, you know!" she said, sitting up suddenly, but not pulling her hand away. "I _did _love him, damn you!"

"What did he know, Sera?" Harry reached out and turned her face toward him with a finger to her chin.

"He knew that I never stopped loving _you_!" The tears spilled down her cheeks now, and she pulled away from him, unable to bear his touching her. "He knew that he was my second choice. He knew it and he still loved me! What kind of woman was I not to realize what I had in front of me?"

Harry sat silently, letting her work through some of this on her own. When she quieted down a little, he asked, "Were you happy?"

"I tried to be. If he wasn't, he never let it show. And I did love him, just not the way that I should have loved him, the way that I _wanted_ to love you."

"I'm sorry about that, too," Harry said. "I've been talking with Severus, and he told me about the memory charm. I like to think that I had good reasons for making that decision, but looking back at it now, at where we've both ended up, I have to wonder . . ."

"No, Harry! Don't say that!" she said, turning to face him earnestly. "Your children, my children . . . they wouldn't exist if we'd not traveled the paths we did. Can you honestly say that you'd trade them for the life we _might_ have had together?"

Harry couldn't, and he shook his head.

"Me either. As much as I might have . . . Never mind. It's in the past now."

"But we still have a future," Harry pointed out.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I love you, Serafina Mallory Wood. Somewhere underneath everything, I've loved you since I was fifteen. And now there's just no good reason to pretend that I don't. I want to spend every night that I have left lying in your arms. I want to raise our children together and write these books together and argue with your uncle together. But right now, if you think you're ready, I'd like to make love to you."

"Oh, Harry," Sera said, on the verge of tears again. "I went out tonight, looking for someone, because I've been so lonely. It's been a year since anyone's touched me, and I just miss having someone to be with, you know?"

"Oh, I know," Harry assured her. It had been three years for him – he certainly knew what she meant. "But I want to be sure you're ready emotionally," he said. "It's only been a year. If you need more time . . ."

"I needed more time to be with a stranger. That was a mistake. But for you . . . I never left you, Harry. How could I need more time?"

He leaned toward her, and she met him halfway. Their lips met and seemed to remember how much they liked each other, because they got reacquainted in a hurry. There was no need for a slow, getting-to-know-you kiss, not when they'd known each other so well once upon a time.

"You're wearing entirely too many clothes," she pointed out when they broke to breathe.

Harry smiled and stood up. He quickly undressed while Sera removed the ridiculous little outfit she was wearing and slid beneath the sheets. Harry joined her there, and they wrapped their arms around each other, luxuriating in the remembered way their bodies fit seamlessly together. Harry was already hard, and his cock pressed insistently against her leg.

"What, no foreplay?" Sera asked with mock irritation.

"Tomorrow," Harry promised. "All you want. But tonight . . . it's just been too long. I don't think I can wait."

"I understand. And I'll hold you to that." She tightened her hold on him and rolled onto her back, spreading her legs as she did and pulling him on top of her right where he needed to be.

"I've gotten really good at oral sex," he told her as he grasped his rigid member and guided himself inside her.

"Oh?" she asked, gasping as his hardness filled her in new and yet deliciously familiar ways.

"Yeah," he said as he made his first thrust into her heat. "Turns out Ginny liked it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he said, thrusting again. "A lot."

"How much?" Sera gasped.

"Every night a lot," Harry said, wishing he didn't have to increase his pace already, but knowing it was inevitable after such a long abstention.

He thrust his tongue into her mouth and demonstrated his finely honed ability. And then he lost the ability to do anything but drive himself into her over and over again until the heat and the friction combined to drive him over the edge of insanity. "I'm coming!" he told her as he released the first shot of his essence into her. He had three years' worth stored up, and it took many, many forays into her heat to release it all. When he'd finally finished, Sera wasn't quite, and she urged him to keep going.

"Don't stop," she moaned. "Not yet."

He obliged, hoping he could stay hard long enough to finish her off. He changed the angle of his thrust until she said, "Yes! Right . . . there! Oh God! Don't . . . . stop! Harry!" she cried as she joined him on the brink of ecstacy and tumbled over its edge with one final well-placed plunge of his cock. He felt her vaginal muscles pulsating around him, and he nearly came again. When it appeared that she'd finally had enough, he said, "Can I stop?"

"Yes. Thank you," she said as he collapsed on top of her.

He kissed her forehead and her nose and her cheeks and her lips. "Thank _you_," he said sincerely.

His cock slowly softened and slipped out of her, and he rolled off of her, lying on his back and pulling her toward him so that she lay with her head on his shoulder, like she belonged there, like she had always belonged there. "I've missed you," he told her, kissing her forehead.

"Me, too. For many years. It's so good to have you back."

"Damn!" Harry cursed. "Hermione was at my place when I got the message from Severus. She said she was going to wait there, to make sure nothing was wrong. I'd better get up and at least call her."

"Come back soon, okay? I don't want to start missing you again."

"I promise." He kissed her lips, then pulled away from her and got out of bed. He debated the need for re-dressing. There were no kids here after all. He finally pulled on his boxers, thought about putting on more clothes, then decided quickly against it. He'd call Hermione on the telephone – he didn't need more clothes for that.

Harry padded into the still brightly-lit kitchen and was met by an outraged Severus Snape. "Good Lord, Potter! Show us all some mercy and put some clothes on!"

"Us all?" Harry repeated, squinting in the light after the relative darkness of the bedroom.

His eyes widened in surprise when he took in the fact that Ron and Hermione were sitting in the kitchen, cups of tea before them, looking at him with amused (Ron) and affectionate (Hermione) expressions. He felt himself blushing, but he waved and said, "Hi, guys." Good thing he hadn't come out here starkers.

"Hi, Harry. When you didn't contact me, I got really worried, so I flooed Ron to meet me here. Severus filled us in on what happened and invited us to tea."

"Oh, he did, did he?" Harry turned to Snape, who looked back at him innocently. He'd have to thank him for this later. He turned back to his friends. "Well, as you can probably tell, Sera and I are back together."

"Yeah, mate, we _heard_ all about it," Ron said with an immature giggle.

Harry turned on Snape again. He was going to kill the man – oh, wait. "You know," he muttered under his breath. "It's a good thing you're already dead."

"Yes, or I might have expired solely from embarrassment here tonight. Really, Potter. You could be just a little quieter during your . . . trysts."

"Don't try and tell me you didn't get some kind of vicarious thrill out of that, you perverted old sod."

"Well, we're going to get back to the Burrow," Hermione said, standing up. "We're really happy for both of you, Harry. Tell Sera for us, will you? On second thought, maybe it's better that she doesn't know we were here tonight."

"Yeah, why should we both be embarrassed beyond all reason?" Harry asked.

Hermione laughed. "Oh, Harry! This is so wonderful! I'd hug you, but well, you know," she said, her gesture taking in his near nudity.

"Yeah, me, too, but well, you know," Ron echoed with a grin.

"I wouldn't hug you on any account, Potter, never fear," Snape offered.

Refusing to be humiliated, Harry saw his friends to the door. "It just occurred to me that being with Sera means I'll be living with that old git," he muttered to them. "What was I thinking?"

"Happy Christmas, Harry. We'll see you in a couple of days," Hermione said, and then she just couldn't help it – she threw her arms around Harry and hugged him.

As he hugged her back, as gently as he could, Ron joked, "Get your . . . hands off my wife."

"Get out of here, both of you," Harry said, pushing Hermione away. "I'll floo the kids in the morning. Merry Christmas."

"So, that's it," Harry said to Snape as he returned to the kitchen. "It's late, and I'm going to bed. I expect I'll see you in the morning?"

"I'm hoping to see a little _less_ of you, actually," Snape noted.

"Good night, Severus, you old prude," Harry said firmly as he shut off the kitchen light and returned to the warmth of Sera's bed. "Merry Christmas."

After the door had closed, Snape said softly. "Good night, Harry Potter. And welcome home."

THE END

So that's it. Thanks to all who stuck around for the end.


End file.
